HALF  A  ROGUE 


Patty  Bennington 


HALF  A  ROGUE 


By  HAROLD  MACGRATH 

Author  of  The  Man  on  the  Box,  The  Puppet  Grown 
Hearts  and  Masks,  etc. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

HARRISON  FISHER 


NEW  YORK 
GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1906 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

NOVEMBER 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MY  MOTHER 


2229-?  35 


HALF  A  ROGUE 


HALF  A  ROGUE 


CHAPTER   I 

It  was  Warrington's  invariable  habit — when  no 
business  or  social  engagement  pressed  him  to  go 
elsewhere — to  drop  into  a  certain  quaint  little 
restaurant  just  off  Broadway  for  his  dinners.  It 
was  out  of  the  way;  the  throb  and  rattle  of  the 
great  commercial  artery  became  like  the  far-off 
murmur  of  the  sea,  restful  rather  than  annoying. 
He  always  made  it  a  point  to  dine  alone,  undis 
turbed.  The  proprietor  nor  his  silent-footed  wait 
ers  had  the  slightest  idea  who  Warrington  was. 
To  them  he  was  simply  a  profitable  customer  who 
signified  that  he  dined  there  in  order  to  be  alone. 
His  table  was  up  stairs.  Below,  there  was  always 
the  usual  dinner  crowd  till  theater  time;  and  the 
music  had  the  faculty  of  luring  his  thoughts 
astray,  being,  as  he  was,  fonder  of  music  than  of 
work.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  in  this  little  res- 

i 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

taurant  that  he  winnowed  the  day's  ideas,  re 
vamped  scenes,  trimmed  the  rough  edges  of  his 
climaxes,  revised  this  epigram  or  rejected  this  or 
that  line;  all  on  the  backs  of  envelopes  and  on  the 
margins  of  newspapers.  In  his  den  at  his  bachelor 
apartments,  he  worked;  but  here  he  dreamed, 
usually  behind  the  soothing,  opalescent  veil  of 
Madame  Nicotine. 

What  a  marvelous  thing  a  good  after-dinner 
cigar  is !  In  the  smoke  of  it  the  poor  man  sees  his 
ships  come  in,  the  poet  sees  his  muse  beckoning 
with  hands  full  of  largess,  the  millionaire  reverts 
to  his  early  struggles,  and  the  lover  sees  his  divin 
ity  in  a  thousand  graceful  poses. 

To-night,  however,  Warrington's  cigar  was 
without  magic.  He  was  out  of  sorts.  Things  had 
gone  wrong  at  the  rehearsal  that  morning.  The 
star  had  demanded  the  removal  of  certain  lines 
which  gave  the  leading  man  an  opportunity  to 
shine  in  the  climax  of  the  third  act.  He  had  la 
bored  a  whole  month  over  this  climax,  and  he 
revolted  at  the  thought  of  changing  it  to  suit  the 
whim  of  a  capricious  woman. 

Everybody  had  agreed  that  this  climax  was  the 
best  the  young  dramatist  had  yet  constructed.  A 
critic  who  had  been  invited  to  a  reading  had  de- 

2 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

clared  that  it  lacked  little  of  being  great.  And  at 
this  late  hour  the  star  wanted  it  changed  in  order 
to  bring  her  alone  in  the  lime-light!  It  was  pre 
posterous.  As  Warrington  was  on  the  first  wave 
of  popularity,  the  business  manager  and  the  stage 
manager  both  agreed  to  leave  the  matter  wholly 
in  the  dramatist's  hands.  He  resolutely  declined 
to  make  a  single  alteration  in  the  scene.  There 
was  a  fine  storm.  The  star  declared  that  if  the 
change  was  not  made  at  once  she  would  leave  the 
company.  In  making  this  declaration  she  knew 
her  strength.  Her  husband  was  rich;  a  contract 
was  nothing  to  her.  There  was  not  another  actress 
of  her  ability  to  be  found ;  the  season  was  too  late. 
There  was  not  another  woman  available,  nor 
would  any  other  manager  lend  one.  As  the  open 
ing  performance  was  but  two  weeks  hence,  you 
will  realize  why  Warrington's  mood  this  night 
was  anything  but  amiable. 

He  scowled  at  his  cigar.  There  was  always 
something,  some  sacrifice  to  make,  and  seldom 
for  art's  sake.  It  is  all  very  well  to  witness  a  play 
from  the  other  side  of  the  footlights;  everything 
appears  to  work  out  so  smoothly,  easily  and  with 
out  effort.  To  this  phenomenon  is  due  the  ama 
teur  dramatist — because  it  looks  simple.  A  play  is 

3 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

not  written ;  it  is  built,  like  a  house.  In  most  cases 
the  dramatist  is  simply  the  architect.  The  novelist 
has  comparatively  an  easy  road  to  travel.  The 
dramatist  is  beset  from  all  sides,  now  the  busi- 
;ness  manager — that  is  to  say,  the  box-office — 
now  the  stage  manager,,  now  the  star,  now  the 
leading  man  or  woman.  Jealousy's  green  eyes  peer 
from  behind  every  scene.  The  dramatist's  ideal, 
when  finally  presented  to  the  public,  resembles 
those  mutilated  marbles  that  decorate  the  mu 
seums  of  Rome  and  Naples.  Only  there  is  this 
difference :  the  public  can  easily  imagine  what  the 
sculptor  was  about,  but  seldom  the  dramatist. 

Warrington  was  a  young  man,  tolerably  good- 
looking,  noticeably  well  set  up.  When  they  have 
good  features,  a  cleft  chin  and  a  generous  nose, 
clean-shaven  men  are  good  to  look  at.  He  had 
fine  eyes,  in  the  corners  of  which  always  lurked 
mirth  and  mischief;  for  he  possessed  above  all 
things  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  dry  humor.  His 
lines  seldom  provoked  rough  laughter;  rather, 
silent  chuckles. 

Warrington's  scowl  abated  none.  In  business, 
women  were  generally  nuisances;  they  were  al 
ways  taking  impossible  stands.  He  would  find 
some  way  out ;  he  was  determined  not  to  submit 

4 


««  Sir,  will  you  aid  a  lady  in  distress  ?  ' '  Page  5 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

to  the  imperious  fancies  of  an  actress,  however 
famous  she  might  be. 

"Sir,  will  you  aid  a  lady  in  distress?"  The 
voice  was  tremulous,  but  as  rich  in  tone  as  the 
diapason  of  an  organ. 

Warrington  looked  up  from  his  cigar  to  behold 
a  handsome  young  woman  standing  at  the  side  of 
his  table.  Her  round,  smooth  cheeks  were  flushed, 
and  on  the  lower  lids  of  her  splendid  dark  eyes 
tears  of  shame  trembled  and  threatened  to  fall. 
Behind  her  stood  a  waiter,  of  impassive  counte 
nance,  who  was  adding  up  the  figures  on  a  check, 
his  movement  full  of  suggestion. 

The  dramatist  understood  the  situation  at  once. 
The  young  lady  had  ordered  dinner,  and,  having 
eaten  it,  found  that  she  could  not  pay  for  it.  It 
was,  to  say  the  least,  a  trite  situation.  But  what 
can  a  man  do  when  a  pretty  woman  approaches 
him  and  pleads  for  assistance?  So  Warrington 
rose. 

"What  may  the  trouble  be?"  he  asked  coldly, 
for  all  that  he  instantly  recognized  her  to  be  a 
person  of  breeding  and  refinement. 

"I — I  have  lost  my  purse,  and  I  have  no  money 
to  pay  the  waiter."  She  made  this  confession, 
bravely  and  frankly. 

5 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

He  looked  about.  They  were  alone.  She  inter 
preted  his  glance  rather  shrewdly. 

"There  were  no  women  to  appeal  to.  The 
waiter  refused  to  accept  my  word,  and  I  really 
can't  blame  him.  I  had  not  even  the  money  to  send 
a  messenger  home." 

One  of  the  trembling  tears  escaped  and  rolled 
down  the  blooming  cheek.  Warrington  surren 
dered.  He  saw  that  this  was  an  exceptional  case. 
The  girl  was  truly  in  distress.  He  knew  his  New 
York  thoroughly ;  a  man  or  woman  without  funds 
is  treated  with  the  finished  cruelty  with  which 
the  jovial  Romans  amused  themselves  with  the 
Christians.  Lack  of  money  in  one  person  creates 
incredulity  in  another.  A  penniless  person  is  in 
variably  a  liar  and  a  thief.  Only  one  sort  of  per 
son  is  pitied  in  New  York:  the  person  who  has 
more  money  than  she  or  he  can  possibly  spend. 

The  girl  fumbled  in  her  hand-bag  and  produced 
a  card,  which  she  gave  to  Warrington — "Kath- 
erine  Challoner."  He  looked  from  the  card  to  the 
girl  and  then  back  to  the  card.  Somehow,  the 
name  was  not  wholly  unfamiliar,  but  at  that  mo 
ment  he  could  not  place  it. 

"Waiter,  let  me  see  the  check,"  he  said.  It 
amounted  to  two  dollars  and  ten  cents.  Warring- 

6 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

ton  smiled.  "Scarcely  large  enough  to  cause  all 
this  trouble,"  he  added  reassuringly.  "I  will  at 
tend  to  it." 

The  waiter  bowed  and  withdrew.  So  long  as 
the  check  was  paid  he  did  not  care  who  paid  it. 

"Oh,  it  is  so  horribly  embarrassing !  What  must 
you  think  of  me?"  She  twisted  her  gloves  with  a 
nervous  strength  which  threatened  to  rend  them. 

"May  I  give  you  a  bit  of  friendly  advice?"  he 
asked. 

She  nodded,  hiding  the  fall  of  the  second  tear. 

"Well,  never  dine  alone  in  public;  at  any  rate, 
in  the  evening.  It  is  not  wise  for  a  woman  to  do 
so.  She  subjects  herself  to  any  number  of  em 
barrassments." 

She  did  not  reply,  and  for  a  moment  he  believed 
that  she  was  about  to  break  down  completely.  He 
aimlessly  brushed  the  cigar  ashes  from  the  table 
cloth.  He  hated  a  scene  in  public.  In  the  theater 
it  was  different ;  it  was  a  part  of  the  petty  round 
of  business  to  have  the  leading  lady  burst  into 
tears  when  things  didn't  suit  her.  What  fools 
women  are  in  general!  But  the  girl  surprised 
him  by  holding  up  determinedly,  and  sinking  her 
white  teeth  into  her  lips  to  smother  the  sob  which 
rose  in  her  throat. 

7 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Be  seated,"  he  said,  drawing  out  the  opposite 
chair. 

A  wave  of  alarm  spread  over  her  face.  She 
clasped  her  hands. 

"Sir,  if  you  are  a  gentleman — " 

Warrington  interrupted  her  by  giving  her  his 
card,  which  was  addressed.  She  glanced  at  it 
through  a  blur  of  tears,  then  sat  down.  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly;  his  vanity  was 
touched.  There  was,  then,  a  young  woman  in 
New  York  who  had  not  heard  of  Richard  War 
rington. 

"In  asking  you  to  be  seated,"  he  explained,  "it 
was  in  order  that  you  might  wait  in  comfort  while 
1  despatched  a  messenger  to  your  home.  Doubt 
less  you  have  a  brother,  a  father,  or  some  male 
relative,  who  will  come  at  once  to  your  assist 
ance."  Which  proved  that  Warrington  was  pru 
dent 

But  instead  of  brightening  as  he  expected  she 
would,  she  straightened  in  her  chair,  while  her 
i  eyes  widened  with  horror,  as  if  she  saw  some 
thing  frightful  in  perspective. 

What  the  deuce  could  be  the  matter  now? 
he  wondered,  as  he  witnessed  this  inexplicable 
change. 

8 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"No,  no!  You  must  not  send  a  messenger!" 
she  protested. 

"But—" 

"No,  no!"  tears  welling  into  her  beautiful  eyes 
again.  They  were  beautiful,  he  was  forced  to 
admit. 

"But,"  he  persisted,  "you  wished  the  waiter  to 
do  so.  I  do  not  understand."  His  tone  became 
formal  again. 

"I  have  reasons.  Oh,  heavens !  I  am  the  most 
miserable  woman  in  all  the  world !"  She  suddenly 
bowed  her  head  upon  her  hands  and  her  shoulders 
rose  and  fell  with  silent  sobs. 

Warrington  stared  at  her,  dum founded.  Now 
what?  He  glanced  cautiously  around  as  if  in 
search  of  some  avenue  of  escape.  The  waiter,  ever 
watchful,  assumed  that  he  was  wanted,  and  made 
as  though  to  approach  the  table ;  but  Warrington 
warned  him  off.  All  distrust  in  the  girl  vanished. 
Decidedly  she  was  in  great  trouble  of  some  sort, 
and  it  wasn't  because  she  could  not  pay  a  restau-  \ 
rant  check.  Women — and  especially  New  York 
women — do  not  shed  tears  when  a  stranger  offers 
to  settle  for  their  dinner  checks. 

"If  you  will  kindly  explain  to  me  what  the 
trouble  is,"  visibly  embarrassed,  "perhaps  I  can 

9 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

help  you.    Have  you  run  away  from  home?"  he 
asked. 

A  negative  nod. 

"Are  you  married  ?" 

Another  negative  nod. 

Warrington  scratched  his  chin.  "Have  you 
done  anything  wrong?" 

A  decided  negative  shake  of  the  head.  At  any 
other  time  the  gesticulation  of  the  ostrich  plume, 
so  close  to  his  face,  would  have  amused  him ;  but 
there  was  something  eminently  pathetic  in  the 
diapasm  which  drifted  toward  him  from  the 
feather. 

"Come,  come;  you  may  trust  me  thoroughly. 
If  you  are  afraid  to  return  home  alone — " 

He  was  interrupted  by  an  affirmative  nod  this 
time.  Possibly,  he  conjectured,  the  girl  had 
started  out  to  elope  and  had  fortunately  paused  at 
the  brink. 

"Will  it  help  you  at  all  if  I  go  home  with  you  ?" 
he  asked. 

His  ear  caught  a  muffled  "Yes." 

Warrington  beckoned  to  the  waiter. 

"Order  a  cab  at  once,"  he  said. 

The  waiter  hurried  away,  with  visions  of  hand 
some  tips. 

10 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

Presently  the  girl  raised  her  head  and  sat  up. 
Her  eyes,  dark  as  shadows  in  still  waters,  glis 
tened. 

"Be  perfectly  frank  with  me ;  and  if  I  can  be  of 
service  to  you,  do  not  hesitate  to  command  me." 
He  eyed  her  thoughtfully.  Everything  attached 
to  her  person  suggested  elegance.  Her  skin  was 
as  fine  as  vellum;  her  hair  had  a  dash  of  golden 
bronze  in  it;  her  hands  were  white  and  shapely, 
and  the  horn  on  the  tips  of  the  fingers  shone  rosily. 
Now,  what  in  the  \vorld  was  there  to  trouble  a 
young  woman  who  possessed  these  favors,  who 
wore  jewels  on  her  fingers  and  sable  on  her  shoul 
ders?  "Talk  to  me  just  as  you  would  to  a 
brother,"  he  added  presently. 

"You  will  take  this  ring,"  she  said  irrelevantly. 
She  slipped  a  fine  sapphire  from  one  of  her  fingers 
and  pushed  it  across  the  table. 

"And  for  what  reason  ?"  he  cried. 

"Security  for  my  dinner.  I  can  not  accept  char 
ity,"  with  a  hint  of  hauteur  which  did  not  in  the  \ 
least  displease  him. 

"But,  my  dear  young  woman,  I  can  not  accept 
this  ring.  You  have  my  address.  You  may  send 
the  sum  whenever  you  please.  I  see  no  reason 
why,  as  soon  as  you  arrive  home,  you  can  not  re- 

ii 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

fund  the  small  sum  of  two  dollars  and  ten  cents. 
It  appears  to  me  very  simple." 

"There  will  be  no  one  at  home,  not  even  the 
( servants,"  wearily. 

Warrington's  brows  came  together.  Was  the 
girl  fooling  him,  after  all  ?  But  for  what  reason  ? 

"You  have  me  confused,"  he  admitted.  "I  can 
do  nothing  blindly.  Tell  me  what  the  trouble  is." 

"How  can  I  tell  you,  an  absolute  stranger?  It 
is  all  so  frightful,  and  I  am  so  young!" 

Frightful?  Young?  He  picked  up  his  half- 
finished  cigar,  but  immediately  let  it  fall.  He  stole 
a  look  at  his  watch ;  it  was  seven. 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  must  think  of  me,"  de 
spairingly.  "Nobody  believes  in  another's  real 
misfortune  in  this  horrid  city.  There  are  so  many 
fraudulent  methods  used  to  obtain  people's  sym 
pathies  that  every  one  has  lost  trust.  I  had  no 
money  when  I  entered  here ;  but  outside  it  was  so 
dark.  Whenever  I  stopped,  wondering  where  I 
should  go,  men  turned  and  stared  at  me.  Once  a 
policeman  peered  into  my  face  suspiciously.  And 
I  dared  not  return  home,  I  dared  not !  No,  no ;  I 
promise  not  to  embarrass  you  with  any  more 
tears."  She  brushed  her  eyes  with  a  rapid  move 
ment. 

12 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington's  success  as  a  dramatist  was  due 
largely  to  his  interest  in  all  things  that  passed  un 
der  his  notice.  Nothing  was  too  trivial  to  observe. 
The  tragic  threads  of  human  life,  which  escaped 
the  eyes  of  the  passing  many  or  were  ignored  by 
them,  always  aroused  his  interest  and  attention; 
and  more  than  once  he  had  picked  up  one  of  these 
threads  and  followed  it  to  the  end.  Out  of  these 
seemingly  insignificant  things  he  often  built  one 
of  those  breathless,  nerve-gripping  climaxes  which 
had,  in  a  few  years'  time,  made  him  famous.  In 
the  present  case  he  believed  that  he  had  stumbled 
upon  something  worthy  his  investigation.  This 
handsome  young  woman,  richly  dressed,  who 
dared  not  go  home,  who  had  jewels  but  no  money 
— there  was  some  mystery  surrounding  her,  and 
he  determined  to  find  out  what  it  was.  And  then, 
besides,  for  all  that  he  was  worldly,  he  was  young 
and  still  believed  in  his  Keats. 

"If,  as  you  say,  there  is  no  one  at  your  home, 
why  do  you  fear  to  go  there?"  he  asked,  with 
some  remnant  of  caution. 

"It  is  the  horror  of  the  place,"  shuddering;  "the 
horror!"  And  indeed,  at  that  moment,  her  face 
expressed  horror. 

"Is  it  some  one  dead?"  lowering  his  voice. 
13 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Dead  ?"  with  a  flash  of  cold  anger  in  her  eyes. 
"Yes — to  me,  to  truth,  to  honor;  dead  to  every 
thing  that  should  make  life  worth  the  living.  Oh, 
it  is  impossible  to  say  more  in  this  place,  to  tell 
you  here  what  has  happened  this  day  to  rob  me  of 
all  my  tender  illusions.  This  morning  I  awoke 
happy,  my  heart  was  light;  now,  nothing  but 
shame  and  misery !"  She  hid  her  eyes  for  a  space 
behind  the  back  of  her  hand. 

"I  will  take  you  home,"  he  said  simply. 

"You  trust  me?" 

"Why  not?  I  am  a  man,  and  can  take  care  of 
myself." 

"Thank  you!" 

What  a  voice!  It  possessed  a  marvelous  qual 
ity,  low  and  penetrating,  like  the  voices  of  great 
singers  and  actresses.  Any  woman  with  such  a 
voice  .  .  . 

Here  the  waiter  returned  to  announce  that  a 
cab  awaited  them  in  the  street  below.  Warrington 
paid  the  two  checks,  dropped  a  liberal  tip,  rose 
and  got  into  his  coat.  The  girl  also  rose,  picked 
up  his  card,  glanced  carelessly  at  it,  and  put  it  into 
her  hand-bag — a  little  gold-link  affair  worth  many 
dinners.  It  was  the  voice  and  these  evidences  of 
wealth,  more  than  anything  else,  that  determined 

14 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington.  Frauds  were  always  perpetrated  for 
money,  and  this  exquisite  creature  had  a  small 
fortune  on  her  fingers. 

Silently  they  left  the  restaurant,  entered  the 
cab,  and  went  rolling  out  into  Broadway.  War 
rington,  repressing  his  curiosity,  leaned  back 
against  the  cushions.  The  girl  looked  dully  ahead. 

What  manner  of  tragedy  was  about  to  unfold 
itself  to  his  gaze? 

The  house  was  situated  in  Central  Park,  West. 
It  was  of  modern  architecture,  a  residence  such  as 
only  rich  men  can  afford  to  build.  It  was  in  utter 
gloom;  not  a  single  light  could  be  seen  at  any 
window.  It  looked,  indeed,  as  if  tragedy  sat  en 
throned  within.  Warrington's  spine  wrinkled  a 
bit  as  he  got  out  of  the  cab  and  offered  his  hand 
to  the  girl. 

Mute  and  mysterious  as  a  sphinx,  the  girl 
walked  to  the  steps,  not  even  looking  around  to 
see  if  he  was  coming  after  her.  Perhaps  she  knew 
the  power  of  curiosity.  Without  hesitance  she 
mounted  the  steps;  he  followed,  a  step  behind. 
At  the  door,  however,  she  paused.  He  could  hear 
her  breath  coming  in  quick  gasps.  Oddly  enough, 
the  recollection  of  some  detective  stories  flashed 
through  his  mind. 

15 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing,  nothing;  only  I  am  afraid." 

She  stooped;  there  was  a  grating  sound,  a 
click,  and  the  door  opened.  Warrington  was  a 
man  of  courage,  but  he  afterward  confessed  that 
it  took  all  his  nerve  force  to  move  his  foot  across 
the  threshold. 

"Do  not  be  frightened,"  she  said  calmly;  "there 
is  nothing  but  ghosts  here  to  frighten  any  one." 

"Ghosts?" 

"Yes." 

"Have  you  brought  me  here  to  tell  me  a  ghost 
story?"  with  an  effort  at  lightness.  What  misery 
the  girl's  tones  conveyed  to  his  ears ! 

"The  ghosts  of  things  that  ought  to,  and 
should,  have  been ;  are  not  those  the  most  melan 
choly?"  She  pressed  a  button  and  flooded  the 
hallway  with  light. 

His  keen  eyes  roving  met  nothing  but  signs  of 
luxury.  She  led  him  into  the  library  and  turned 
on  the  lights.  Not  a  servant  anywhere  in  sight; 
the  great  house  seemed  absolutely  empty.  Not 
even  the  usual  cat  or  dog  came  romping  inquisi 
tively  into  the  room.  The  shelves  of  books  stirred 
his  sense  of  envy;  what  a  den  for  a  literary  man 
to  wander  in!  There  were  beautiful  marbles. 

16 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

splendid  paintings,  taste  and  refinement  visible 
everywhere. 

Warrington  stood  silently  watching  the  girl  as 
she  took  off  her  hat  and  carelessly  tossed  it  on  the 
reading-table.  The  Russian  sables  were  treated 
with  like  indifference.  The  natural  abundance  of 
her  hair  amazed  him;  and  what  a  figure,  so  ele 
gant,  rounded,  and  mature!  The  girl,  without 
noticing  him,  walked  the  length  of  the  room  and 
back  several  times.  Once  or  twice  she  made  a 
gesture.  It  was  not  addressed  to  him,  but  to  some 
conflict  going  on  in  her  mind. 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  and  fell  to 
twirling  his  hat,  a  sign  that  he  was  not  perfectly 
at  his  ease. 

"I  am  wondering  where  I  shall  begin,"  she  said. 

Warrington  turned  down  his  coat-collar,  and 
the  action  seemed  to  relieve  him  of  the  sense  of 
awkwardness. 

"Luxury !"  she  began,  with  a  sweep  of  her  hand 
which  was  full  of  majesty  and  despair.  "Why 
have  I  chosen  you  out  of  all  the  thousands  ?  Why 
should  I  believe  that  my  story  would  interest  you  ? 
Well,  little  as  I  have  seen  of  the  world,  I  have 
learned  that  woman  does  not  go  to  woman  in 
cases  such  as  mine  is."  And  then  pathetically :  "I 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

know  no  woman  to  whom  I  might  go.  Women 
are  like  daws ;  their  sympathy  comes  but  to  peck. 
Do  you  know  what  it  is  to  be  alone  in  a  city  ?  The 
desert  is  not  loneliness;  it  is  only  solitude.  True 
loneliness  is  to  be  found  only  in  great  communi 
ties.  To  be  without  a  single  friend  or  confidant, 
when  thousand  of  beings  move  about  you ;  to  pour 
your  sorrows  into  cold,  unfeeling  ears;  to  seek 
sympathy  in  blind  eyes — that  is  loneliness.  That 
is  the  loneliness  that  causes  the  heart  to  break." 

Warrington's  eyes  never  left  hers ;  he  was  fas 
cinated. 

"Luxury!"  she  repeated  bitterly.  "Surrounding 
me  with  all  a  woman  might  desire — paintings  that 
charm  the  eye,  books  that  charm  the  mind,  music 
that  charms  the  ear.  Money !" 

"Philosophy  in  a  girl!"  thought  Warrington. 
His  hat  became  motionless. 

"It  is  all  a  lie,  a  lie !"  The  girl  struck  her  hands 
together,  impotent  in  her  wrath. 

It  was  done  so  naturally  that  Warrington,  al 
ways  the  dramatist,  made  a  mental  note  of  the 
gesture. 

"I  was  educated  in  Paris  and  Berlin;  my  mu 
sical  education  was  completed  in  Dresden.  Like 
all  young  girls  with  music-loving  souls,  I  was 

18 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

something1  of  a  poet.  I  saw  the  beautiful  in  every 
thing;  sometimes  the  beauty  existed  only  in  my 
imagination.  I  dreamed ;  I  was  happy.  I  was  told 
that  I  possessed  a  voice  such  as  is  given  to  few. 
I  sang  before  the  Emperor  of  Austria  at  a  private 
musicale.  He  complimented  me.  The  future  was 
bright  indeed.  Think  of  it;  at  twenty  I  retained 
all  my  illusions !  I  am  now  twenty-three,  and  not 
a  single  illusion  is  left.  I  saw  but  little  of  my 
father  and  mother,  which  is  not  unusual  with 
children  of  wealthy  parents.  The  first  shock  that 
came  to  my  knowledge  was  the  news  that  my 
mother  had  ceased  to  live  with  my  father.  I  was 
recalled.  There  were  no  explanations.  My  father 
met  me  at  the  boat.  He  greeted  my  effusive  ca 
resses — caresses  that  I  had  saved  for  years ! — with 
careless  indifference.  This  was  the  second  shock. 
What  did  it  all  mean?  Where  was  my  mother? 
My  father  did  not  reply.  When  I  reached  home  I 
found  that  all  the  servants  I  had  known  in  my 
childhood  days  were  gone.  From  the  new  ones  I 
knew  that  I  should  learn  nothing  of  the  mystery 
which,  like  a  pall,  had  suddenly  settled  down  upon 
me." 

She  paused,  her  arms  hanging  listless  at  her 
sides,  her  gaze  riveted  upon  a  pattern  in  the  rug 

19 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

at  her  feet.  Warrington  sat  like  a  man  of  stone; 
her  voice  had  cast  a  spell  upon  him. 

"I  do  not  know  why  I  tell  you  these  things.  It 
may  weary  you.  I  do  not  care.  Madness  lay  in 
silence.  I  had  to  tell  some  one.  This  morning  I 
found  out  all.  My  mother  left  my  father  because 
he  was  ...  a  thief !" 

"A  thief !"  fell  mechanically  from  Warrington's 
lips. 

"A  thief,  bold,  unscrupulous;  not  the  petty 
burglar,  no.  A  man  who  has  stolen  funds  in 
trusted  to  him  for  years;  a  man  who  has  plun 
dered  the  orphan  and  the  widow,  the  most  despic 
able  of  all  men.  My  mother  died  of  shame,  and  I 
knew  nothing.  My  father  left  last  night  for 
South  America,  taking  with  him  all  the  available 
funds,  leaving  me  a  curt  note  of  explanation.  I 
have  neither  money,  friends,  nor  home.  The 
newspapers  as  yet  know  nothing ;  but  to-morrow, 
to-morrow!  The  banks  have  seized  everything." 

She  continued  her  story.  Sometimes  she  was 
superb  in  her  wrath ;  at  others,  abject  in  her  mis 
ery.  She  seemed  to  pass  through  the  whole 
gamut  of  the  passions. 

And  all  this  while  it  ran  through  Warrington's 
head — "What  a  theme  for  a  play !  What  a  voice !" 
20 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

He  pitied  the  girl  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart ; 
but  what  could  he  do  for  her  other  than  offer  her 
cold  sympathy?  He  was  ill  at  ease  in  the  face  of 
this  peculiar  tragedy. 

All  at  once  the  girl  stopped  and  faced  him. 
There  was  a  smile  on  her  lips,  a  smile  that  might 
be  likened  to  a  flash  of  sunlight  on  a  wintry  day. 
Directly  the  smile  melted  into  a  laugh,  mellow, 
mischievous,  reverberating. 

Warrington  sat  up  stiffly  in  his  chair. 

"I  beg  your  pardon !"  he  said. 

The  girl  sat  down  before  a  small  writing-table. 
She  reached  among  some  papers  and  finally  found 
what  she  sought. 

"Mr.  Warrington,  all  this  has  been  in  very  bad 
taste;  I  frankly  confess  it.  There  are  two  things 
you  may  do :  leave  the  house  in  anger,  or  remain 
to  forgive  me  this  imposition." 

"I  fail  to  understand."  He  was  not  only  an 
gered,  but  bewildered. 

"I  have  deceived  you." 

"You  mean  that  you  have  lured  me  here  by  a 
trick  ?  That  you  have  played  upon  my  sympathies 
to  gratify  ..." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  she  interrupted  proudly,  her 
cheeks  darkening  richly.  "A  trick,  it  is  true;  but 

21 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

there  are  extenuating  circumstances.  What  I  have 

told  you  has  happened,  only  it  was  not  to-day  nor 

yesterday.    Please  remain  seated  till  I  have  done. 

I  am  poor;  I  was  educated  in  the  cities  I  have 

named;  I  have  to  earn  my  living." 

She  rose  and  came  over  to  his  chair.    She  gave 

him  a  letter. 

"Read  this ;  you  will  fully  understand." 
Warrington  experienced  a  mild  chill  as  he  saw 

a  letter  addressed  to  him,  and  his  rude  scribble  at 

the  bottom  of  it. 

Miss  CHALLONER — I  beg  to  state  that  I  have  nei 
ther  the  time  nor  the  inclination  to  bother  with 
amateur  actresses.  RICHARD  WARRINGTON. 

"It  was  scarcely  polite,  was  it  ?"  she  asked,  with 
a  tinge  of  irony.  "It  was  scarcely  diplomatic, 
either,  you  will  admit.  I  simply  asked  you  for 
work.  Surely,  an  honest  effort  to  obtain  employ 
ment  ought  not  to  be  met  with  insolence." 

He  stared  dumbly  at  the  evidence  in  his  hand. 
He  recalled  distinctly  the  rage  that  was  in  his 
i  heart  when  he  penned  this  note.  The  stage  man 
ager  had  lost  some  valuable  manuscript  that  had 
to  be  rewritten  from  memory,  the  notes  having 
been  destroyed. 

"For  weeks,"  said  the  girl,  "I  have  tried  to  get 

22 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

a  hearing.  Manager  after  manager  I  sought;  all 
refused  to  see  me.  I  have  suffered  a  hundred  af 
fronts,  all  in  silence.  Your  manager  I  saw,  but  he 
referred  me  to  you,  knowing  that  probably  I 
should  never  find  you.  But  I  was  determined.  So 
I  wrote ;  that  was  your  answer.  I  confess  that  at 
the  time  I  was  terribly  angry,  for  courtesy  is  a 
simple  thing  and  within  reach  of  every  one." 

To  receive  a  lesson  in  manners  from  a  young 
woman,  when  that  young  woman  is  handsome  and 
talented,  is  not  a  very  pleasant  experience.  But 
Warrington  was  a  thorough  gentleman,  and  he 
submitted  with  grace. 

"I  know  that  you  are  a  busy  man,  that  you  are 
besieged  with  applications.  You  ought,  at  least, 
to  have  formal  slips,  such  as  editors  have.  I  have 
confidence  in  my  ability  to  act,  the  confidence 
which  talent  gives  to  all  persons.  After  receiving 
your  letter  I  was  more  than  ever  determined  to 
see  you.  So  I  resorted  to  this  subterfuge.  It  was 
all  very  distasteful  to  me;  but  I  possess  a  vein  of  j 
wilfumess.  This  is  not  my  home.  It  is  the  home 
of  a  friend  who  was  kind  enough  to  turn  it  over 
to  me  this  night,  relying  upon  my  wit  to  bring 
about  this  meeting." 

"It  was  neatly  done,"  was  Warrington's  com- 
23 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

ment.  He  was  not  angry  now  at  all.  In  fact,  the 
girl  interested  him  tremendously.  "I  am  rather 
curious  to  learn  how  you  went  about  it." 

"You  are  not  angry?" 

"I  was." 

This  seemed  to  satisfy  her. 

"Well,  first  I  learned  where  you  were  in  the 
habit  of  dining.  All  day  long  a  messenger  has 
been  following  you.  A  telephone  brought  me  to 
the  restaurant.  The  rest  you  know.  It  was 
simple." 

"Very  simple,"  laconically. 

"You  listened  and  believed.  I  have  been  watch 
ing  you.  You  believed  everything  I  have  told  you. 
You  have  even  been  calculating  how  this  scene 
might  go  in  a  play.  Have  I  convinced  you  that  I 
have  the  ability  to  act?" 

Warrington  folded  the  letter  and  balanced  it  on 
his  palm. 

"You  have  fooled  me  completely ;  that  ought  to 
be  sufficient  recommendation." 

"Thank  you."  But  her  eyes  were  eager  with 
anxiety. 

"Miss  Challoner,  I  apologize  for  this  letter.  I 
do  more  than  that.  I  promise  not  to  leave  this 
house  till  you  agree  to  call  at  the  theater  at  ten 
24 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

to-morrow  morning."  He  was  smiling,  and  War- 
rington  had  a  pleasant  smile.  He  had  an  idea 
besides.  "Good  fortune  put  it  into  my  head  to 
follow  you  here.  I  see  it  all  now,  quite  plainly.  I 
am  in  a  peculiar  difficulty,  and  I  honestly  believe 
that  you  can  help  me  out  of  it.  How  long  would 
it  take  you  to  learn  a  leading  part?  In  fact,  the 
principal  part  ?" 

"A  week." 

"Have  you  had  any  experience  ?" 

"A  short  season  out  west  in  a  stock  company." 

"Good!" 

"And  I  love  work." 

"Do  not  build  any  great  hopes,"  he  warned, 
"for  your  chance  depends  upon  the  whim  of  an 
other  woman.  But  you  have  my  word  and  my; 
good  offices  that  something  shall  be  put  in  your 
way.  You  will  come  at  ten?"  drawing  on  his 
gloves. 

"Promptly." 

"I  believe  that  we  both  have  been  wise  to-night ; 
though  it  is  true  that  a  man  dislikes  being  a  fool 
and  having  it  made  manifest." 

"And  how  about  the  woman  scorned  ?"  with  an 
enchanting  smile. 

"It  is  kismet,"  he  acknowledged. 
25 


CHAPTER   II 

Warrington  laid  down  his  pen,  brushed  his 
smarting  eyes,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  tilted  back 
his  chair.  With  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head, 
he  fell  into  a  waking  dream,  that  familiar  pastime 
of  the  creative  mind.  It  was  half  after  nine,  and 
he  had  been  writing  steadily  since  seven.  The 
scenario  was  done ;  the  villain  had  lighted  his  last 
cigarette,  the  hero  had  put  his  arms  protectingly 
around  the  heroine,  and  the  irascible  rich  uncle 
had  been  brought  to  terms.  All  this,  of  course, 
figuratively  speaking ;  for  no  one  ever  knew  what 
the  plot  of  that  particular  play  was,  insomuch  as 
Warrington  never  submitted  the  scenario  to  his 
manager,  an  act  which  caused  almost  a  serious 
rupture  between  them.  But  to-night  his  puppets 
were  moving  hither  and  thither  across  the  stage, 
pulsing  with  life ;  they  were  making  entrances  and 
exits;  developing  this  climax  and  that;  with  wit 
and  satire,  humor  and  pathos.  It  was  all  very  real 
to  the  dreamer. 

The  manuscript  lay  scattered  about  the  top  of 
26 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

his  broad  flat  desk,  and  the  floor  beside  the  waste- 
basket  was  flaked  with  the  remains  of  various 
futile  lines  and  epigrams.  The  ash-pan  was  littered 
with  burnt  matches,  ends  of  cigars  and  pipe  tobac 
co,  while  the  ash-crumbs  speckled  all  dark  objects,, 
not  excepting  the  green  rug  under  his  feet.  War- 
rington  smoked  incessantly  while  at  work,  now  a 
cigarette,  now  a  cigar,  now  a  pipe.  Specialists  de 
clare  with  cold  authoritative  positiveness  that  the 
use  of  tobacco  blunts  the  thought,  dulls  the  edge 
of  invention;  but  Warrington  knew  better. 
Many  a  night  he  had  thrown  his  coat  over  his 
smoking- jacket  and  dashed  down  the  street  to  the 
corner  drug-store  for  a  fresh  supply  of  tobacco. 
He  simply  could  not  work  without  it.  I  do  not 
know  that  he  saw  his  heroes  and  heroines  any 
plainer  for  the  smoke ;  but  I  do  know  that  when 
their  creator  held  a  cigar  between  his  teeth,  they 
frowned  less,  and  the  spirit  of  malice  and  irony, 
of  which  he  was  master,  became  subdued. 

Warrington  was  thirty-five  now.  The  grey  hair 
at  the  temples  and  the  freshness  of  his  complexion 
gave  him  a  singularly  youthful  appearance.  His 
mouth  was  even-lipped  and  rather  pleasure-loving, 
which,  without  the  balance  of  a  strong  nose, 
would  have  appealed  to  you  as  effeminate.  War- 

27 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

rington's  was  what  the  wise  phrenologists  call  the 
fighting  nose;  not  pugnacious,  but  the  nose  of  a 
man  who  will  fight  for  what  he  believes  to  be 
right,  fight  bitterly  and  fearlessly.  To-day  he  was 
•  famous,  but  only  yesterday  he  had  been  fighting, 
retreating,  throwing  up  this  redoubt,  digging  this 
trench ;  fighting,  fighting.  Poverty,  ignorance  and 
contempt  he  fought ;  fought  dishonesty,  and  vice, 
and  treachery,  and  discouragement. 

Presently  he  leaned  toward  the  desk  and  picked 
up  a  letter.  He  read  it  thoughtfully,  and  his 
brows  drew  together.  A  smile,  whimsically  sad, 
stirred  his  lips,  and  was  gone.  It  was  written  by  a 
girl  or  a  very  young  woman.  There  was  no  signa 
ture,  no  address,  no  veiled  request  for  an  auto 
graph.  It  was  one  pf  those  letters  which  bring  to 
the  novelist  or  dramatist,  or  any  man  of  talent,  a 
real  and  singular  pleasure.  It  is  precious  because 
honest  and  devoid  of  the  tawdry  gilt  of  flattery. 

RICHARD  WARRINGTON — You  will  smile,  I  know, 
when  you  read  this  letter,  doubtless  so  many  like  it 
are  mailed  to  you  day  by  day.  You  will  toss  it  into 
the  waste-basket,  too,  as  it  deserves  to  be.  But  it 
had  to  be  written.  However,  I  feel  that  I  am  not 
writing  to  a  mere  stranger,  but  to  a  friend  whom  I 
know  well.  Three  times  you  have  entered  into  my 
life,  and  on  each  occasion  you  have  come  by  a  dif 
ferent  avenue.  I  was  ill  at  school  when  you  first 
28 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

appeared  to  me.  It  was  a  poem  in  a  magazine.  It 
was  so  full  of  the  spirit  of  joyousness,  so  full  of 
kindliness,  so  rich  in  faith  and  hope,  that  I  cried 
over  it,  cut  it  out  and  treasured  it,  and  re-read  it 
often  in  the  lonely  hours  when  things  discouraged 
me, — things  which  mean  so  little  to  women  but  so 
much  to  girls.  Two  years  went  by,  and  then  came 
that  brave  book !  It  was  like  coming  across  a  half- 
forgotten  friend.  I  actually  ran  home  with  it,  and 
sat  up  all  night  to  complete  it.  It  was  splendid. 
It  was  the  poem  matured,  broadened,  rounded. 
And  finally  your  first  play !  How  I  listened  to  ev 
ery  word,  watched  every  move !  I  wrote  you  a 
letter  that  night,  but  tore  it  up,  not  having  the 
courage  to  send  it  to  you.  How  versatile  you 
must  be :  a  poem,  a  book,  a  play !  I  have  seen  all 
your  plays  these  five  years,  plays  merry  and  gay, 
sad  and  grave.  How  many  times  you  have  mys 
teriously  told  me  to  be  brave!  I  envy  and  ad 
mire  you.  What  an  exquisite  thing  it  must  be 
to  hear  one's  thoughts  spoken  across  the  foot 
lights  !  Please  do  not  laugh.  It  would  hurt  me  to 
know  that  you  could  laugh  at  my  honest  admira 
tion.  You  won't  laugh,  will  you?  I  am  sure  you 
will  value  this  letter  for  its  honesty  rather  than  for 
its  literary  quality.  I  have  often  wondered  what 
you  were  like.  But  after  all,  that  can  not  matter, 
since  you  are  good  and  kind  and  wise ;  for  you  can 
not  be  else,  and  write  the  lofty  things  you  do. 

Warrington  put  the  letter  away,  placed  it  care 
fully  among  the  few  things  he  held  of  value.  It 
would  not  be  true  to  say  that  it  left  him  unaf 
fected.  There  was  an  innocent  barb  in  this  girlish 

29 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

admiration,  and  it  pierced  the  quick  of  all  that  was 
good  in  him. 

"Good  and  kind  and  wise,"  he  mused.  "If  only 
the  child  knew !  Heigh-ho !  I  am  kind,  sometimes 
I've  been  good,  and  often  wise.  Well,  I  can't  dis 
illusion  the  child,  happily;  she  has  given  me  no 
address." 

He  rose,  wheeled  his  chair  to  a  window  facing 
the  street,  and  opened  it.  The  cool  fresh  April 
air  rushed  in,  clearing  the  room  of  its  opalescent 
clouds,  cleansing  his  brain  of  the  fever  that  beset 
it.  He  leaned  with  his  elbows  on  the  sill  and 
breathed  noisily,  gratefully.  Above,  heaven  had 
decked  her  broad  bosom  with  her  flickering  stars, 
and  from  the  million  lamps  of  the  great  city  rose 
and  floated  a  tarnished  yellow  haze.  So  many 
sounds  go  forth  to  make  the  voices  of  the  night : 
somewhere  a  child  was  crying  fretfully,  across  the 
way  the  faint  tinkle  of  a  piano,  the  far-off  rattle 
of  the  elevated,  a  muffled  laugh  from  a  window 
above,  the  rat-tat  of  a  cab-horse,  the  breeze  in  the 
ivy  clinging  to  the  walls  of  the  church  next  door, 
the  quarrelsome  chirp  of  the  sleepy  sparrows ;  and 
then,  recurrence.  Only  the  poet  or  the  man  in 
pain  opens  his  ears  to  these  sounds. 

Over  on  Broadway  a  child  of  his  fertile  brain 
30 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

was  holding  the  rapt  attention  of  several  hundred 
men  and  women;  and  across  the  broad  land  that 
night  four  other  dramas  were  being  successfully 
acted.  People  were  discussing  his  theories,  de- 
nouncing  or  approving  his  conception  of  life.  The 
struggle  was  past,  his  royalties  were  making  him 
rich.  And  here  he  was  this  night,  drinking  the 
cup  of  bitterness,  of  unhappiness,  the  astringent 
draft  of  things  that  might  and  should  have  been. 
The  coveted  grape  was  sour,  the  desired  apple  was 
withered.  Those  who  traverse  the  road  with  Folly 
as  boon  companion  find  only  emptiness. 

And  so  it  was  with  Warrington.  He  had  once 
been  good,  wholly  good  and  kind  and  wise,  lofty 
as  a  rural  poet  who  has  seen  nothing  of  life  save 
nature's  pure  and  visible  face.  In  the  heat  of 
battle  he  had  been  strong,  but  success  had  subtly 
eaten  into  the  fibers  and  loosed  his  hold,  and  had 
swept  him  onward  into  that  whirlpool  out  of 
which  no  man  emerges  wholly  undefined.  It  takes 
a  great  and  strong  man  to  withstand  success,  and 
Warrington  was  only  a  genius.  It  was  not  from 
lack  of  will  power;  rather  it  was  because  he  was 
easy-going  and  loved  pleasure  for  its  own  sake. 
He  had  fought  and  starved,  and  now  for  the  jingle 
of  the  guinea  in  his  pocket  and  the  junkets  of  th^ 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

gay!  The  prodigality  of  these  creative  beings  is 
not  fully  understood  by  the  laity,  else  they  would 
forgive  more  readily  the  transgressions.  Besides, 
the  harbor  of  family  ties  is  a  man's  moral  bul 
wark;  and  Warrington  drifted  hither  and  thither 
with  no  harbor  in  view  at  all. 

He  had  been  an  orphan  since  his  birth ;  a  mother 
meant  simply  a  giver  of  life,  and  a  father  meant 
even  less.  Until  he  had  read  the  reverse  and 
obverse  sides  of  life,  his  sense  of  morality  had  lain 
dormant  and  untilled.  Such  was  his  misfortune. 
The  solitary  relative  he  laid  claim  to  was  an  aged 
aunt,  his  father's  sister.  For  her  he  had  purchased 
a  beautiful  place  in  the  town  of  his  birth,  vaguely 
intending  to  live  out  his  old  age  there. 

There  had  been  a  fight  for  all  he  possessed. 
Good  had  not  come  easily,  as  it  does  to  some  par 
ticularly  favored  mortals.  There  was  no  family 
aristocracy  to  back  him  up,  no  melancholy  recol 
lections  of  past  grandeur  to  add  the  interest  of 
romance  to  his  endeavors.  His  father  had  been  a 
poor  man  of  the  people,  a  farmer.  And  yet  War 
rington  was  by  no  means  plebeian.  Somewhere 
there  was  a  fine  strain.  It  had  been  a  fierce 
struggle  to  complete  a  college  education.  In 
the  summer-time  he  had  turned  his  hand  to  all 
32 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

sorts  of  things  to  pay  his  winter's  tuition.  He  had 
worked  as  clerk  in  summer  hotels,  as  a  surveyor's 
assistant  in  laying  street-railways,  he  had  played 
at  private  secretary,  he  had  hawked  vegetables 
about  the  streets  at  dawn.  Happily,  he  had  no 
false  pride.  Chance  moves  quite  as  mysteriously 
as  the  tides.  On  leaving  college  he  had  secured  a 
minor  position  on  one  of  the  daily  newspapers, 
and  had  doggedly  worked  his  way  up  to  the  cov 
eted  position  of  star-reporter.  Here  the  latent 
power  of  the  story-teller,  the  poet  and  the  dram 
atist  was  awakened ;  in  any  other  pursuit  the  talent 
would  have  quietly  died,  as  it  has  died  in  the 
breasts  of  thousands  who,  singularly  enough,  have 
not  stood  in  the  path  of  Chance. 

Socially,  Warrington  was  one  of  the  many  no 
bodies  ;  and  if  he  ever  attended  dinners  and  ban 
quets  and  balls,  it  was  in  the  capacity  of  reporter. 
But  his  cynical  humor,  which  was  manifest  even 
in  his  youth,  saved  him  the  rancor  and  envy  which 
is  the  portion  of  the  outsider. 

At  length  the  great  city  called  him,  and  the 
lure  was  strong.  He  answered,  and  the  long 
battle  was  on.  Sometimes  he  dined,  sometimes  he 
slept ;  for  there's  an  old  Italian  saying  that  he  who 
sleeps  dines.  He  drifted  from  one  paper  to  an- 
33 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

other,  lived  in  prosperity  one  week  and  in  poverty 
the  next;  haggled  with  pawnbrokers  and  land 
ladies,  and  borrowed  money  and  lent  it.  He  never 
saved  anything;  the  dreamer  never  does.  Then 
one  day  the  end  came  to  the  long  lane,  as  it  always 
does  to  those  who  keep  on.  A  book  was  accepted 
and  published ;  and  then  followed  the  first  play. 

By  and  by,  when  his  name  began  to  figure  in  the 
dramatic  news  items,  and  home  visitors  in  New 
York  returned  to  boast  about  the  Warrington 
"first  nights,"  the  up-state  city  woke  and  began 
to  recollect  things — what  promise  Warrington 
had  shown  in  his  youth,  how  clever  he  was,  and 
all  that.  Nothing  succeeds  like  success,  and  no 
body  is  so  interesting  as  the  prophet  who  has 
shaken  the  dust  of  his  own  country  and  found 
honor  in  another.  Human  nature  can't  help  itself : 
the  women  talked  of  his  plays  in  the  reading-clubs, 
the  men  speculated  on  the  backs  of  envelopes  what 
his  royalties  were,  and  the  newspaper  that  had 
given  him  a  bread-and-butter  pittance  for  a  man's 
work  proudly  took  it  upon  itself  to  say  that  its 
columns  had  fostered  the  genius  in  the  growing. 
This  was  not  because  the  editors  were  really  proud 
of  their  townsman's  success ;  rather  it  was  because 
it  made  a  neat  little  advertisement  of  their  own 
34 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

particular  foresight,  such  as  it  was.  In  fact,  in  his 
own  town  (because  he  had  refused  to  live  in  it!) 
Warrington  was  a  lion  of  no  small  dimensions. 

Warrington's  novel  (the  only  one  he  ever 
wrote)  was  known  to  few.  To  tell  the  truth, 
the  very  critics  that  were  now  praising  the  dram 
atist  had  slashed  the  novelist  cruelly.  And  thereby 
hangs  a  tale.  A  New  York  theatrical  manager 
sent  for  Warrington  one  day  and  told  him  that 
he  had  read  the  book,  and  if  the  author  would 
attempt  a  dramatic  version,  the  manager  would 
give  it  a  fair  chance.  Warrington,  the  bitterness 
of  failure  in  his  soul,  undertook  the  work,  and 
succeeded.  Praise  would  have  made  an  indifferent 
novelist  of  him,  for  he  was  a  born  dramatist. 

Regularly  each  year  he  visited  his  birthplace 
for  a  day  or  so,  to  pay  in  person  his  taxes.  For  all 
that  he  labored  in  New  York,  he  still  retained  his 
right  to  vote  in  his  native  town. 

A  sudden  desire  seized  him  to-night  to  return 
to  his  home,  to  become  a  citizen  in  fact  and  deed. 
It  was  now  the  time  of  year  when  the  spring  tor 
rents  flood  the  lowlands,  when  the  melting  snows 
trickle  down  the  bleak  hillsides,  when  the  dead 
hand  of  winter  lies  upon  the  bosom  of  awakening 

35 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

spring,  and  the  seed  is  in  travail.  Heigh-ho !  the 
world  went  very  well  in  the  springs  of  old;  care 
was  in  bondage,  and  all  the  many  gateways  to  the 
heart  were  bastioned  and  sentineled. 

"Sir,  a  lady  wishes  to  see  you." 

Warrington  turned.  His  valet  stood  respect 
fully  in  the  doorway. 

"The  name?"  Warrington  rose  impatiently. 
Nobody  likes  to  have  his  dreams  disturbed. 

"Miss  Challoner,  sir." 

"Challoner!"  in  surprise;  "and  this  time  of 
night?"  He  stroked  his  chin.  A  moment  passed. 
Not  that  he  hesitated  to  admit  her;  rather  he 
wished  to  make  a  final  analysis  of  his  heart  before 
his  eyes  fell  down  to  worship  her  beauty.  "Admit 
her  at  once."  He  brushed  the  ashes  from  his 
jacket  and  smoothed  his  hair.  The  valet  disap 
peared.  "If  I  only  loved  the  woman,  loved  her 
honestly,  boldly,  fearlessly,  what  a  difference  it 
would  make !  I  don't  love  her,  and  I  realize  that 
I  never  did.  She  never  touched  my  heart,  only  my 
eye  and  mind.  I  may  be  incapable  of  loving  any 
one;  perhaps  that's  it.  But  what  can  have  pos 
sessed  her  to  leave  the  theater  this  time  of  night  ?" 

A  swish  of  petticoats,  a  rush  of  cool  air  with 
which  mingled  an  indefinable  perfume,  and,  like  a 
36 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

bird  taking-  momentary  rest  in  the  passage,  she 
stood  poised  on  the  threshold.  A  beautiful  woman 
is  a  tangible  enchantment ;  and  fame  and  fortune 
had  made  Katherine  Challoner  beautiful,  roguish 
ly,  daringly,  puzzlingly  beautiful.  Her  eyes 
sparkled  like  stars  on  ruffled  waters,  the  flame  of 
health  and  life  burned  in  her  cheeks,  and  the  moist 
red  mobile  mouth  expressed  emotions  so  rapidly 
and  irregularly  as  to  bewilder  the  man  who  at 
tempted  to  follow  them.  Ah,  but  she  could  act; 
comedy  or  tragedy,  it  mattered  not;  she  was  al 
ways  superb. 

There  was  a  tableau  of  short  duration.  Her 
expression  was  one  of  gentle  inquiry,  his  was 
one  of  interest  not  unmixed  with  fascination. 
He  felt  a  quick  touch  of  compassion,  of  embar 
rassment.  There  had  been  times  when  yonder 
woman  had  seemed  to  show  him  the  preference 
that  is  given  only  to  men  who  are  loved.  Even  as 
the  thought  came  to  him,  he  prayed  that  it  was 
only  his  man's  vanity  that  imagined  it.  As  he 
stared  at  her,  there  came  the  old  thrill :  beauty  is 
a  power  tremendous. 

"Dick,  you  do  not  say  you  are  glad  to  see  me." 

"Beauty  striketh  the  sage  dumb,"  he  laughed. 

"AYhat  good  fortune  brings  you  here  to-night? 

37 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

What  has  happened?   How  could  you  find  time 
between  the  acts  to  run  over?" 

"I  am  not  acting  to-night." 

"What?" 

"No.  Nor  shall  I  be  to-morrow  night,  nor  the 
thousand  nights  that  shall  follow." 

"Why,  girl !"  he  cried,  pushing  out  a  chair.  He 
had  not  seen  her  for  two  weeks.  He  had  known 
nothing  of  her  movements,  save  that  her  splendid 
talents  had  saved  a  play  from  utter  ruin.  Her 
declaration  was  like  a  thunderbolt.  "Explain!" 

"Well,  I  am  tired,  Dick ;  I  am  tired."  She  sat 
down,  and  her  gaze  roved  about  the  familiar  room 
with  a  veiled  affection  for  everything  she  saw. 
"The  world  is  empty.  I  have  begun  to  hate  the 
fools  who  applaud  me.  I  hate  the  evil  smells  which 
hang  about  the  theater.  I  hate  the  overture  and 
the  man  with  the  drums,"  whimsically. 

"What's  he  done  to  you?" 

"Nothing,  only  he  makes  more  noise  than  the 
others.  I'm  tired.  It  is  not  a  definite  reason ;  but 
a  woman  is  never  obliged  to  be  definite." 

"No;  I  never  could  understand  you,  even  when 
you  took  the  trouble  to  explain  things." 

"Yes,  I  know."    She  drew  off  her  gloves  and 
rubbed  her  fingers,  which  were  damp  and  cold. 
38 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"But,  surely,  this  is  only  a  whim.  You  can't 
seriously  mean  to  give  up  the  stage  when  the 
whole  world  is  watching  you !" 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  continued  to  rub 
her  fingers.  She  wore  several  rings,  among  which 
was  a  brilliant  of  unusual  luster.  Warrington, 
however,  had  eyes  for  nothing  but  her  face.  For 
the  past  six  months  he  had  noted  a  subtle  change 
in  her,  a  growing  reserve,  a  thought  fulness  that 
was  slowly  veiling  or  subduing  her  natural  gaiety. 
.She  now  evaded  him  when  he  suggested  one  of 
their  old  romps  in  queer  little  restaurants;  she 
professed  illness  when  he  sent  for  her  to  join  him 
in  some  harmless  junketing.  She  was  slowly  slip 
ping  away  from  him ;  no,  drifting,  since  he  made 
no  real  effort  to  hold  her.  And  why  had  he  made 
no  real  effort?  Sometimes  he  thought  he  could 
answer  this  question,  and  then  again  he  knew  that 
he  could  not.  Ah,  if  he  only  loved  her !  What  a 
helpmeet :  cheerful,  resourceful,  full  of  good  hu 
mor  and  practical  philosophy,  a  brilliant  wit,  with 
all  the  finished  graces  of  a  goddess.  Ah,  if  indeed 
he  only  loved  her!  This  thought  kept  running 
through  his  mind  persistently;  it  had  done  so  for 
days ;  but  it  had  always  led  him  back  to  the  start 
ing  point.  Love  is  not  always  reasoning  with 

39 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

itself.  Perhaps — and  the  thought  filled  him  with 
regret — perhaps  he  was  indeed  incapable  of  lov 
ing  any  one  as  his  poet's  fancy  believed  he  ought 
to  love.  And  this  may  account  for  the  truth  of  the 
statement  that  genius  is  rarely  successful  in  love; 
the  ideal  is  so  high  that  it  is  out  of  the  reach  of 
life  as  we,  genius  or  clod,  live  it. 

"Isn't  this  determination  rather  sudden?"  he 
asked,  when  the  pause  grew  insupportable. 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  it  for  some  time,"  she 
replied,  smiling.  A  woman  always  finds  herself 
at  ease  during  such  crises.  "Only,  I  hadn't  exactly 
made  up  my  mind.  You  were  at  work  ?"  glancing 
at  the  desk. 

"Yes,  but  I'm  through  for  the  night.  It's  only 
a  scenario,  and  I  am  not  entirely  satisfied  with  it." 

She  walked  over  to  the  desk  and  picked  up  a 
sheet  at  random.  She  was  a  privileged  person  in 
these  rooms.  Warrington  never  had  any  nervous 
dread  when  she  touched  his  manuscript. 

"How  is  it  going  to  end  ?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  they  are  going  to  marry  and  be  happy  ever 
after,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"Ah;  then  they  are  never  going  to  have  any 
children?"  she  said,  with  a  flash  of  her  old-time 
mischief, 

40 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Will  you  have  a  cigarette?"  lighting  one  and 
offering  her  the  box. 

"No;  I  have  a  horror  of  cigarettes  since  that 
last  play.  To  smoke  in  public  every  night,  per 
force,  took  away  the  charm.  I  hated  that  part.  An 
adventuress!  It  was  altogether  too  close  to  the 
quick;  for  I  am  nothing  more  or  less  than  an 
adventuress  who  has  been  successful.  Why,  the 
very  method  I  used  to  make  your  acquaintance — 
years  and  years  ago,  wasn't  it  ? — proved  the  spirit. 
'We  hate  two  kinds  of  people,' "  she  read,  taking 
up  another  page  of  manuscript ;  "  'the  people  we 
wrong  and  the  people  who  wrong  us.  Only,  the 
hate  for  those  we  have  wronged  is  most  endur 
ing/  That  isn't  half  bad,  Dick.  How  do  you  think 
of  all  these  things  ?" 

She  crossed  over  to  the  window  to  cool  her  hot 
face.  She,  too,  heard  the  voices  of  the  night ;  not 
as  the  poet  hears  them,  but  as  one  in  pain.  "He 
never  loved  me!"  she  murmured,  so  softly  that 
even  the  sparrows  in  the  vine  heard  her  not.  And 
bitter  indeed  was  the  pain.  But  of  what  use  to 
struggle,  or  to  sigh,  or  vainly  to  regret  ?  As  things 
are  written,  so  must  they  be  read.  She  readily 
held  him  guiltless ;  what  she  regretted  most  deeply 
was  the  lack  of  power  to  have  him  and  to  hold 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

him.  Long  before,  she  had  realized  the  hopeless 
ness  of  it  all.  Knowing  that  he  drank  from  the 
cup  of  dissipation,  she  had  even  sought  to  hold 
him  in  contempt;  but  to  her  he  had  never  ceased 
to  be  a  gentleman,  tender,  manly  and  kind.  It  is 
contempt  that  casts  the  first  spadeful  in  the  grave 
of  love. 

"Come,  girl,"  he  said,  going  to  her  side;  "you 
have  something  to  tell  me.  What  is  it  ?" 

She  turned  to  find  his  hand  outstretched  and  a 
friendly  look  in  his  eyes.  Impulsively  she  gave 
him  both  her  hands.  He  bowed  over  them  with 
the  grave  air  of  the  days  of  powdered  wigs. 
There  was  not  a  particle  of  irony  in  the  move 
ment  ;  rather  it  was  a  quiet  acknowledgment  that 
he  recollected  the  good  influence  she  had  at  times 
worked  upon  him  in  some  dark  days.  As  he 
brushed  her  fingers  with  his  lips,  he  saw.  His  head 
came  up  quickly. 

"Ah!" 

"Yes."  Her  voice  was  steady  and  her  eyes  were 
brave. 

He  drew  her  to  the  lamp  and  studied  the  ring. 
The  ruddy  lights  dartled  as  he  slowly  turned  the 
jewel  around. 

"It  is  a  beauty.  No  one  but  a  rich  man  could 
42 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

have  given  a  ring  like  that.  And  on  your  ringer  it 
means  but  one  thing." 

"I  am  to  be  married  in  June." 

"Do  you  love  him  ?"  j 

"I  respect  him ;  he  is  noble  and  good  and  kind.D  • 

Warrington  did  not  press  the  question.  He  still 
retained  the  hand,  though  he  no  longer  gazed  at 
the  ring. 

"I  have  always  wanted  a  home.  The  stage 
never  really  fascinated  me;  it  was  bread  and 
butter." 

"Is  it  necessary  to  marry  in  order  to  have  a 
home?"  he  asked  quietly,  letting  the  hand  gently 
slide  from  his.  "You  are  wealthy,  after  a  fashion ; 
could  you  not  build  a  home  of  your  own?" 

"Always  to  be  identified  as  the  actress  ?  To  be 
looked  at  curiously,  to  be  annoyed  by  those  who 
are  not  my  equals,  and  only  tolerated  by  those 
who  are  ?  No !  I  want  a  man  who  will  protect  me 
from  all  these  things,  who  will  help  me  to  forget 
some  needless  follies  and  the  memory  that  a  hun 
dred  different  men  have  made  play-love  to  me  on 
the  other  side  of  the  footlights." 

"Some  men  marry  actresses  to  gratify  their 
vanity ;  does  this  man  love  you  ?" 

"Yes;  and  he  will  make  me  what  Heaven  in- 
43 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

tended  I  should  be  — a  woman.  Oh,  I  have  uttered 
no  deceit.  This  man  will  take  me  for  what  I  am." 

"And  you  have  come  here  to-night  to  ask  me 
to  forget,  too?"  There  was  no  bitterness  in  his 
tone,  but  there  was  a  strong  leaven  of  regret. 
"Well,  I  promise  to  forget." 

"It  was  not  necessary  to  ask  you  that,"  gener 
ously.  "But  I  thought  I  would  come  to  you  and 
tell  you  everything.  I  did  not  wish  you  to  mis 
judge  me.  For  the  world  will  say  that  I  am  mar 
rying  this  good  man  for  his  money;  whereas,  if 
he  was  a  man  of  the  most  moderate  circumstances, 
I  should  still  marry  him." 

"And  who  might  this  lucky  man  be  ?  To  win  a 
woman,  such  as  I  know  you  to  be,  this  man  must 
have  some  extraordinary  attributes."  And  all  at 
once  a  sense  of  infinite  relief  entered  into  his 
heart :  if  she  were  indeed  married,  there  would  no 
longer  be  that  tantalizing  doubt  on  his  part,  that 
peculiar  attraction  which  at  one  time  resembled 
love  and  at  another  time  was  simply  fascination. 
She  would  pass  out  of  his  life  definitely.  He  per 
fectly  recognized  the  fact  that  he  admired  her 
above  all  other  women  he  knew ;  but  it  was  also 
apparent  that  to  see  her  day  by  day,  year  by  year, 
his  partner  in  the  commonplaces  as  well  as  in  the 
44 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

heights,  romance  would  become  threadbare  quick 
ly  enough.  "Who  is  he?"  he  repeated. 

"That  I  prefer  not  to  disclose  to  you  just  yet. 
What  are  you  going  to  call  your  new  play?"  with 
a  wave  of  her  hand  toward  the  manuscript. 

"I  had  intended  to  call  it  Love  and  Money,  but 
the  very  name  presages  failure." 

"Yes,  it  needs  the  cement  of  compatibility  to 
keep  the  two  together." 

"Well,  from  my  heart  I  wish  you  all  the  best 
luck  in  the  world,"  he  said,  the  absence  of  any 
mental  reservation  in  his  eyes.  "You  would 
make  any  man  a  good  wife.  If  I  weren't  a  born 
fool—" 

She  leaned  toward  him,,  her  face  suddenly  tense 
and  eager. 

" — if  I  weren't  a  born  fool,"  with  a  smile  that 
was  whimsical,  "I'd  have  married  you  myself, 
long  ago.  But  fate  has  cut  me  out  for  a  bachelor." 
He  knocked  the  ash  from  a  cold  pipe,  filled  and 
lighted  it.  "By  the  way,"  he  said.  "I  received  a 
curious  letter  to-day."  Its  production  would  re 
lieve  the  awkwardness  of  the  moment.  "Would 
you  like  to  see  it  ?"  ppening  the  drawer  and  hand 
ing  the  letter  to  her.  "It's  one  of  the  few  letters 
of  the  sort  I'm  going  to  keep." 
45 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

She  accepted  the  letter,  but  without  any  spirit 
of  interest.  For  a  moment  a  thought  had  all  but 
swept  her  off  her  feet;  yet  she  realized  instantly 
that  this  thought  was  futile.  Warrington  did  not 
£ove  her ;  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  fol 
low  out  the  course  she  had  planned.  She  had  come 
to  him  that  night  with  a  single  purpose  in  mind : 
to  plumb  the  very  heart  of  this  man  who  was  an 
enigma  to  every  woman  he  met.  She  had  plumbed 
it.  Warrington  loved  nobody  but  Warrington 
and  pleasure.  Oh,  he  was  capable  of  the  grand 
passion,  she  very  well  knew,  but  the  woman  to 
arouse  it  had  not  yet  crossed  his  path, 

"What  do  you  think  of  it  ?"  he  asked. 

She  came  closer  to  the  lamp.  It  was  only  pre 
tense,  but  Warrington  was  not  aware  of  it.  She 
had  stared  at  the  sheet,  reading  only  her  miserable 
thoughts.  Presently  she  smiled;  the  girlish  ex 
uberance  amused  her. 

"She  has  put  you  quite  out  of  reach.  W7hat  a 
fine  thing  it  must  be  to  have  such  faith  in  any 
man!" 

"And  I'm  not  worth  in  her  esteem  an  ounce  to 
the  pound."  He  was  quite  frank  with  himself.  "I 
would  to  Heaven  I  were !" 

"And  this  is  the  kind  of  woman  that  you  will 
46 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

fall  violently  in  love  with,  some  day,  Dick.  It  will 
be  your  punishment."  She  had  fully  recovered  by 
now,  and  the  old-time  raillery  was  in  the  as 
cendant.  "Oh,  she  has  read  you  fairly  well.  You 
are  good  and  kind  and  wise,  but  these  virtues  are 
not  of  equal  weight.  Your  goodness  and  wisdom 
will  never  catch  up  with  your  abundant  kindness. 
I've  a  good  deal  to  thank  you  for,  Dick ;  a  good 
deal." 

"Nonsense !  The  shoe  is  on  the  other  foot.  You 
have  made  half  my  plays  what  they  are  to-day." 
He  rang  and  ordered  some  coffee. 

She  dropped  into  his  desk-chair  and  propped  her 
chin  in  her  palms,  viewing  him  through  half- 
closed,  speculative  eyes. 

"We've  had  some  jolly  larks  together,"  he  said. 
"I  shall  miss  you;  how  much  I  shall  know  only 
when  you  are  gone.  Is  he  good-looking  ?" 

"Very.  He  is  tall  and  straight,  with  a  manly 
face,  fine  eyes,  and  a  good  nose.  You  know  that 
I'm  always  particular  about  a  man's  nose." 

"And  young,  of  course?"  not  without  some 
feeling  of  jealousy. 

"And  young." 

"Tell  me  all  about  him,"  drawing  up  a  chair  and 
facing  her. 

47 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"He  is  a  lucky  chap,"  he  summed  up  when  she 
had  done. 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  lightly.  "I  may 
prove  the  worst  wife  possible.  Perhaps,  when  I 
have  burned  my  bridges,  I  shall  be  mad  for  the 
very  publicity  I'm  trying  to  escape.  Women  are 
like  extinct  volcanos ;  they  are  most  to  be  dreaded 
when  written  perfectly  harmless." 

Warrington  shook  his  head  and  laughed.  Here 
the  coffee  came  in.  He  dismissed  his  man,  and 
poured  the  nectar  himself. 

"You  are  the  one  man  I  know  who  never  asks 
to  sweeten  my  coffee,"  she  observed. 

"And  yet  I  had  to  learn.  You  haven't  taught 
this  other  fellow  yet,  I  see.  Is  he  warranted  house- 
broken,  or  will  he  have  to  be  chained  ?" 

"He  will  not  have  to  be  chained ;  and  a  man  who 
is  a  recluse  seldom  has  to  be  broken  in." 

"A  recluse?  What's  his  hobby:  butterflies, 
stones,  stamps,  or  coins  ? — No,  girl ;  I  don't  mean 
that.  I'm  a  little  heavy  to-night.  Do  you  recollect 
the  night  you  donned  a  suit  of  mine,  bundled  your 
hair  under  a  felt  hat,  and  visited  the  studios? 
What  a  romp !  Not  a  soul  ever  found  out  who  you 
were ;  and  if  I  hadn't  been  in  the  secret,  I  shouldn't 
have  known,  either.  I  shall  never  forget  how 

48 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

funny  Dolman  looked  when  he  started  a  certain 
popular  story  of  his  and  you  shut  him  up.  'Gentle 
men/  you  said,  'neither  listen  to,  nor  repeat  that 
kind  of  story  in  the  presence  of  ladies.'  'Ladies  ?' 
cried  Dolman.  'I  see  no  ladies/  'But  there  are 
gentlemen,'  you  added  quickly.  Later,  Dolman 
advised  me  not  to  bring  any  more  of  my  Sunday- 
school  friends  to  his  studio." 

The  woman  smiled,  but  the  smile  was  only  on 
the  lips.  All  those  happy  frolics  were  to  be  no 
more.  Heigh-ho !  Over  the  mantel  there  were  sev 
eral  photographs  of  herself.  Like  all  celebrities  of 
her  kind,  the  camera  was  a  constant  source  of 
amusement.  It  was  not  necessarily  vanity.  The 
rose  is  not  vain,  yet  it  repeats  its  singular  beauty 
as  often  as  the  seasons  permit  it.  Across  these  pic 
tures  she  had  scrawled  numerous  signatures, 
"Kate"  and  "Kit"  and  "Kitty"  and  "Katherine 
Challoner,"  with  here  and  there  a  phrase  in  French 
and  Italian. 

"You  wouldn't  return  those  under  any  circum 
stances  ?" 

"No,  indeed !  That's  all  I'll  have.  And  besides, 
you  wouldn't  ask  me  to  give  them  up  ?" 

Her  answer  remained  unspoken.  The  valet  ap 
peared  deferentially. 

49 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Well?"  said  Warrington. 

"A  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir.  He  said  he 
wouldn't  need  any  card.  Mr.  John  Bennington, 
sir." 

"John  Bennington!"  Warrington  sprang  from 
,his  chair,  his  face  joyous.  "Old  John  here  to 
night!  Finest  chap  on  earth,  Kate;  my  room 
mate  at  college,  and  the  only  chap  in  my  town  who 

was  my  friend  when  I  was  a  nobody.   Old  John 

» 
•    •    • 

"Richard,  you  must  hide  me  quickly.  I  mustn't 
be  seen  here.  There  is  no  way  of  passing  him  in 
the  hall." 

"Good  Lord!"  He  did  not  notice  her  pallor. 
"The  butler's  pantry,"  he  said  hastily. 

She  slipped  out  of  sight  noiselessly.  Presently 
she  heard  sounds,  men's  voices,  a  hearty  greeting, 
and  for  a  moment  the  world  seemed  gliding  from 
under  her  feet.  Her  gloves!  She  had  forgotten 
her  gloves ! 


CHAPTER   III 

Men  have  a  way  of  greeting  which  is  all  their 
own.  It  is  unlike  the  kiss  and  flutter  of  women, 
which  may  signify  frankness  or  deceit,  generosity 
or  selfishness,  some  favor  to  gain,  some  treachery 
to  forestall.  Men's  likes  and  dislikes  are  gener 
ally  visible.  The  dog  wags  his  tail,  or  he  warns 
you  away  with  a  growl ;  there  is  no  mistaking  his 
attitude.  On  the  other  hand,  the  cat  purrs  and 
rubs  against  your  leg,  and  when  you  reach  down 
to  smooth  her,  as  likely  as  not  she  gives  you  a  dig 
for  your  pains.  True,  there  are  always  exceptions 
to  this  rule. 

With  their  hands  on  each  other's  shoulders,  at 
arm's  length  they  stood,  a  likely  pair  to  look  at, 
smiling  frankly  and  joyfully  into  each  other's 
eyes.  When  it  is  without  self-interest,  friendship 
between  man  and  man  is  a  fine  and  noble  thing.  It 
is  known  best  in  the  stress  of  storms,  in  the  hour 
of  sorrow  and  adversity.  Friendship,  to  be  per 
fect,  must  be  without  any  sense  of  obligation,  for 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

obligation  implies  that  one  or  the  other  is  in  debt, 
and  the  debtor  is  always  wondering  when  he  will 
have  to  pay.  Between  these  two  men  only  the 
slightest  favors  had  been  exchanged.  They  had 
grown  up  together,  one  the  son  of  a  rich  steel-mill 
owner,  the  other  the  son  of  a  poor  farmer.  The 
one  had  entered  college  to  the  sounding  of  golden 
cymbals,  the  other  had  marched  in  with  nothing 
but  courage  in  his  pocket.  It  is  impossible  to  de 
scribe  how  these  great  friendships  come  about; 
generally  they  begin  with  some  insignificant  trifle, 
soon  forgotten.  Warrington  had  licked  Benning- 
ton  in  the  boyhood  days;  why,  I  doubt  that  the 
Recording  Angel  himself  remembers.  So  the 
friendship  began  with  secret  admiration  on  one 
side  and  good-natured  toleration  on  the  other.  One 
day  Warrington  broke  a  colt  for  Bennington,  and 
later  Bennington  found  a  passably  good  market 
for  Warrington's  vegetables.  Friendship,  like  con 
stancy,  finds  strange  niches.  The  Bennington  fam 
ily  were  not  very  cordial  to  the  young  vegetable 
grower.  On  the  mother's  side  there  was  a  long 
line  of  military  ancestors.  It  is  impossible  that  a 
cabbage  and  a  uniform  should  cohere.  Warring- 
ton's  great-grandsires  had  won  honors  in  the  Rev 
olution,  but  as  this  fact  did  not  make  cabbages 

52 


grow  any  faster  he  kept  the  faded  glory  to  him 
self. 

In  college  the  two  lads  were  as  inseparable  as 
La  Mole  and  Coconnas ;  they  played  on  the  same 
teams,  rowed  on  the  same  crews  and  danced  with 
the  same  girls.  The  only  material  difference  in 
their  respective  talents  lay  in  one  thing :  Benning- 
ton  could  not  write  a  respectable  rhyme,  and  I'm 
not  sure  that  he  wasn't  proud  of  it.  It  distin 
guished  him  from  the  other  members  of  his  class. 
As  for  Warrington,  there  wasn't  a  pretty  girl  in 
the  whole  college  town  who  couldn't  boast  of  one 
or  more  of  his  impassioned  stanzas.  And  you  may 
be  sure  that  when  Warrington  became  talked 
about  these  self-same  halting  verses  were  dug  up 
from  the  garret  and  hung  in  sundry  parlors. 

Bennington  was  handsome,  and,  but  for  his 
father's  blood,  the  idleness  of  his  forebears  would 
have  marked  him  with  effeminateness.  His  head, 
his  face,  the  shape  of  his  hands  and  feet,  these 
proclaimed  the  aristocrat.  It  was  only  in  the  eyes 
and  the  broad  shoulders  that  you  recognized  the 
iron-monger's  breed.  His  eyes  were  as  blue  as  his 
own  hammered  steel ;  but,  like  the  eyes  of  the  eagle 
at  peace,  they  were  mild  and  dreamy  and  deceptive 
to  casual  inspection.  In  the  shops  the  men  knew 

53 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

all  about  those  eyes  and  shoulders.  They  had  been 
fooled  once,  but  only  once.  They  had  felt  the  iron 
in  the  velvet. 

"I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  boy,"  said  War- 
.j-ington,  dropping  his  arms.  "You  haven't  changed 
a  bit." 

"Nor  you,  Dick ;  if  anything  you  look  younger." 

"How  many  years  is  it,  John?" 

"Six  or  seven;  not  very  long." 

"Time  never  seems  long  to  a  man  who  never  has 
to  wait  for  anything.  I  have  had  to  recLon  time 
with  hours  full  of  suspense,  and  those  hours  have 
aged  me ;  perhaps  not  outwardly,  but  all  the  same, 
I'm  an  old  man,  John." 

"Nonsense!" 

"When  did  you  cross  ?" 

"About  a  year  ago,  when  father  died.  I  had 
given  up  the  English  end  of  the  concern  two  years 
before,  and  was  just  wandering  about  the  conti 
nent.  I  was  dreadfully  disappointed  when  I 
learned  that  you  had  visited  the  shops  in  ninety- 
eight.  That  summer  I  was  in  Switzerland.  I  had 
no  idea  there  was  going  to  be  war,  and  never  saw 
a  newspaper  till  it  was  nearly  over.  I  should  have 
enlisted.  And  another  year  we  passed  within  two 
days  of  each  other." 

54 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"No !"  Bennington  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  It  was  in  Italy,  at  Sorrento,  that  I  learned 
of  your  nearness.  You  were  off  for  Amain*  and 
I  had  just  come  from  there.  For  three  days  I  ran 
across  your  name  in  the  hotel  registers.  I  tried  to 
find  your  permanent  address,  but  failed.  Cook's 
nor  the  bankers  in  Naples  knew  anything  about 
you.  I  tell  you  what,  it  was  discouraging." 

"What  luck !  I  was  having  all  my  mail  sent  di 
rect  to  Mentone,  where  I  spent  the  winter.  Say, 
what  do  you  think?" 

"About  what?" 

"Won  five  thousand  at  Monte  Carlo  in  one 
play." 

"Pounds  ?"  exclaimed  Bennington. 

"Lord,  no!— dollars." 

"Ah !  But  of  course  you  went  back  and  lost  it  ?" 
ironically. 

"On  the  contrary,  I've  never  staked  a  dollar 
since.  Gambling  was  never  a  habit  of  mine, 
though  I  dare  say  the  moral  side  of  the  subject 
would  not  have  held  me  back.  Simply,  I  know 
that  the  gambler  always  loses,  and  the  banker  al 
ways  wins,  in  the  end.  Common  sense  told  me  to 
quit,  and  I  did.  I  brought  my  letter  of  credit  home 
practically  intact." 

55 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"You  used  to  play  poker,"  dubiously. 

"Poker  isn't  gambling.  It's  surreptitiously  lend 
ing  money  to  your  friends." 

"You  were  always  good  at  definitions,"  sighed 
Bennington. 

"I  understand  you've  sold  your  holdings  in  the 
English  shops  ?" 

"Yes.  I  was  weary  of  the  people  and  what  they 
called  their  conservatism,  which  is  only  a  phase  of 
stupidity.  And  then,  besides,  I  loved  the  old  home 
up  there.  I've  been  living  there  about  a  year  now." 

"It's  a  pity  you  couldn't  have  looked  me  up  be 
fore  this,"  Warrington  complained. 

Bennington  only  laughed  affectionately. 

"Take  a  look  around  the  room  while  I  get  the 
whisky  and  soda." 

"Don't  bother,  Dick." 

"Boy,  I  licked  you  once,  and  I'll  do  it  again  if 
you  don't  sit  down.  A  little  extra  attention  won't 
hurt ;  and  I'll  guarantee  the  whisky."  Waving  his 
arms  toward  all  the  desirable  things  in  the  room, 
he  vanished  beyond  the  curtain. 

Bennington  looked  about  leisurely.   It  was  just 

the  kind  of  room  he  had  always  imagined ;  it  was 

like  the  man  who  occupied  it.  Simplicity  and  taste 

abounded;  the  artist  and  the  collector,  the  poet 

56 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

and  the  musician,  were  everywhere  in  evidence. 
He  strolled  over  to  the  mantel  and  took  down  one 
of  the  pictures  signed  "Kate."  He  smiled.  It  was 
not  an  indulgent  smile,  nor  the  smile  of  a  man  who 
has  stumbled  upon  another  man's  secret.  The 
smile  was  rather  exultant.  He  leaned  against  the 
mantel  and  studied  the  face  in  its  varied  expres 
sions.  He  nodded  approvingly.  It  was  a  lovely 
face ;  it  was  more  than  lovely, — it  was  tender  and 
strong.  Presently  he  returned  to  his  chair  and  sat 
down,  the  photograph  still  in  his  hand.  And  in 
this  position  Warrington  found  him. 

"Ah,  you  sly  dog!"  he  hailed,  setting  down  the 
glasses  and  pouring  out  a  liberal  bumper.  "So  I've 
caught  you?  Well,  you're  not  the  only  man  who 
has  been  conquered  by  that  very  photograph."  He 
had  half  a  notion  to  go  in  and  bring  her  out ;  but 
then,  women  are  such  finicky  beings ! 

Bennington  laid  aside  the  photograph,  a  certain 
reverence  in  his  action  that  in  ordinary  times1 
would  not  have  escaped  Warrington's  notice. 

"What's  this  to  be  ?"  asked  Bennington,  lifting 
his  glass  and  stirring  the  ice. 

"Imtner  und  immer,  as  the  German  has  it," 
Warrington  replied. 

"For  ever  and  ever,  then !" 
57 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

And  the  two  lightly  touched  glasses,  with  that 
peculiar  gravity  which  always  accompanies  such 
occasions. 

"When  a  man  drinks  your  health  in  bad  whis 
ky,  look  out  for  him;  but  this  whisky  is  very 
good,  Dick."  Bennington  set  down  his  glass  and 
wiped  his  lips.  "It  is  very  good,  indeed." 

"Well,  how  are  things  up  in  Herculaneum  ?" 
asked  Warrington.  "You  know,  or  ought  to  know, 
that  I  get  up  there  only  once  a  year." 

"Things  are  not  very  well.  There's  the  devil  to 
pay  in  politics,  and  some  day  I  may  have  a  jolly 
long  strike  on  my  hands,"  grimly.  "But  I  shall 
know  exactly  what  to  do.  That  man  McQuade 
owns  about  all  the  town  now.  He  controls  con 
gressmen,  state  senators  and  assemblymen,  and  the 
majority  of  the  Common  Council  is  his,  body 
and  soul.  Only  recently  he  gave  the  traction  com 
pany  a  new  right  of  way.  Not  a  penny  went  into 
the  city's  purse.  And  you  know  these  street-rail 
ways;  they  never  pay  their  taxes.  A  franchise 
for  ninety-nine  years ;  think  of  it !" 

"Why  don't  you  men  wake  up  and  oust  Mc 
Quade  ?  I'll  tell  you  right  here,  Jack,  you  have  no 
one  to  blame  but  yourself.  Scoundrels  like  Mc 
Quade  are  always  in  the  minority ;  but  they  remain 
58 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

in  power  simply  because  men  like  you  think  pol 
itics  a  dirty  business  and  something  for  an  honest 
man  to  keep  out  of.  Run  for  mayor  yourself,  if 
you  want  clean  politics.  Rouse  up  an  independent 
party." 

"Do  you  know  what  they  call  me  up  there?" 
Bennington  laughed. 

"I  confess  to  ignorance." 

"Well,  the  newspapers  say  covertly  that  I'm  all 
but  a  naturalized  Englishman,  a  snob,  when  I'm 
only  a  recluse,  a  man  who  dresses  every  night  for 
dinner,  who  dines  instead  of  eats.  There  are  some 
things  it  is  impossible  to  understand,  and  one  is 
the  interest  the  newspapers  take  in  the  private  af 
fairs  of  men.  If  they  jumped  on  me  as  a  mill- 
owner,  there  might  be  some  excuse,  but  they  are 
always  digging  me  on  the  private-citizen  side. 
Every  man,  in  his  own  house,  ought  to  be  allowed 
to  do  as  he  pleases.  They  never  bothered  the  gov 
ernor  any,  when  he  was  alive.  I  believe  they  were 
afraid  of  him." 

"I  can  explain  all  that,  my  boy.  Buy  your 
clothes  of  the  local  tailors ;  get  rid  of  your  valet ; 
forget  that  you  have  lived  in  England.  They'll 
come  around  to  you,  then.  You  may  talk  as  much 
as  you  like  about  the  friendliness  between  the  Eng- 

59 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

lishman  and  the  American.  It  is  simply  a  case  of 
two  masters  who  are  determined  that  their  dogs 
shall  be  friendly.  Let  the  masters  drop  out  of  sight 
for  a  moment,  and  you  will  find  the  dogs  at  each 
other's  throat.  And  the  masters?  The  dollar  on 
this  side  and  the  sovereign  on  the  other.  There  is 
a  good  deal  of  friendship  these  days  that  is  based 
upon  three  and  a  half  per  cent.  Get  into  politics, 
my  boy." 

"Bah!  I'd  lock  nice  running  for  mayor, 
wouldn't  I?  The  newspapers  would  howl  calam 
ity,  and  the  demagogues  would  preach  that  I 
would  soon  impose  English  wages  in  the  shops, 
and  all  that  tommyrot.  No,  thank  you;  I'll  take 
trouble  as  it  comes,  but  I'm  not  looking  for  it." 

"I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  go  back  there  and 
start  the  ball  myself,"  said  Warrington,  jesting. 

"Why  don't  you  ?  You  are  not  a  rank  outsider. 
The  people  are  proud  of  you." 

"And  always  will  be,  so  long  as  I  have  sense 
enough  to  remain  here  in  New  York,"  dryly.  "But 
if  I  lived  there  ...  !" 

"You  are  not  always  going  to  live  in  New 
York?" 

"Not  always." 

"You've  a  beautiful  old  home  up  there," 
60 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"I  bought  that  just  to  show  the  people  I  had 
the  money,"  laughing.  "They  may  never  forget 
my  cabbages,  but  they'll  forgive  them." 

"Nevertheless,  you  ought  to  return." 

"Listen,"  said  Warrington,  lifting  his  hand. 
They  became  silent,  and  presently  the  voice  of  the 
city  came  into  the  room.  "I'm  afraid  I  could  not 
live  away  from  that.  How  many  times  have  I 
stopped  work  to  listen  to  it!  How  many  inspira 
tions  have  I  drawn  from  it !  It  is  the  siren's  music, 
I  know,  but  I  am  no  longer  afraid  of  the  reefs. 
Perhaps  I  have  become  enamored  with  noise;  it  is 
quite  possible." 

"I  have  lived  in  London.  I  thought  it  was  go 
ing  to  be  hard  to  break  away,  but  it  wasn't." 

They  lighted  cigars,  and  Bennington  took  up 
the  photograph  again. 

"A  lovely  face,"  was  his  comment. 

"With  a  heart  and  a  mind  even  more  lovely," 
supplemented  Warrington.  "She  is  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  women  I  have  ever  met,  and  what  is 
more,  humorous  and  good-humored.  My  word 
for  it,  she  may  have  equals,  but  she  has  no  supe 
riors  on  this  side  of  the  ocean." 

Bennington  looked  up  sharply. 

"Nothing  serious  ?"  he  asked  gently. 
61 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Serious?  No.  We  are  capital  friends,  but 
nothing  more.  There's  been  too  much  comrade 
ship  to  admit  anything  like  sentimentality.  Ah, 
boy,  you  should  see  her  act !" 

"I  have.  I  saw  her  in  London  last  season.  She 
was  playing  your  War  of  Women.  She  ap 
peared  to  me  enchanting.  But  about  these  ac 
tresses  .-  .  . " 

"I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  Warrington. 
"Some  of  them  are  bad,  but  some  of  them  are  the 
noblest  creatures  God  ever  put  on  earth ;  and  yon 
der  is  one  of  them.  I  remember.  Often  we  were 
both  in  debt;  plays  went  wrong;  sometimes  I 
helped  her  out,  sometimes  she  returned  the  favor. 
We  were  n;ore  like  two  men.  Without  her  help  I 
shouldn't  b?  where  I  am  to-day.  I  always  read 
the  scenario  of  a  play  to  her  first ;  and  often  we've 
worked  together  half  a  night  on  one  scene.  I  shall 
miss  her." 

"What!  Is  she  going  away?" 

"After  a  fashion.  She  has  retired  from  the 
stage." 

"Do  you  believe  she  means  it?"  asked  Ben- 
nington.  "You  know  how  changeable  actresses' 
moods  are." 

"I  think  Miss  Challoner  will  never  act  again. 
62 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

She  has  always  been  an  enigma  to  the  majority  of 
the  show  people.  Never  any  trumpets,  jewelry, 
petty  squabbles,  lime-lights,  and  silks;  she  never 
read  criticisms,  save  those  I  sent  her.  Managers 
had  to  knock  on  her  dressing-room  door.  Oh,  1 
do  not  say  that  she  is  an  absolute  paragon,  but  I 
do  say  that  she  is  a  good  woman,  of  high  ideals, 
loyal,  generous,  frank,  and  honest.  And  I  have 
often  wondered  why  the  devil  I  couldn't  fall  in 
love  with  her  myself,"  moodily. 

Bennington  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Finally 
he  said :  "How  does  it  feel  to  be  famous,  to  have 
plays  produced  simultaneously  in  New  York  and 
London?" 

"After  the  first  success  there  is  never  anything 
but  hard  work.  A  failure  once  in  a  while  acts  like 
a  tonic.  And  sometimes  we  get  an  anonymous  let 
ter  that  refreshes  us — a  real  admirer,  who  writes 
from  the  heart  and  doesn't  fish  for  a  letter  or  an 
autograph  in  return.  I  received  one  of  these  only 
a  few  days  ago,  and  I  want  you  to  read  it."  War- 
rington  produced  the  missive  and  tossed  it  into 
Bennington's  hands.  "Read  that.  It's  worth  while 
to  get  a  letter  like  that  one." 

Bennington  took  up  the  letter,  smiling  at  his 
friend's  enthusiasm.  A  single  glance  at  the  grace- 
63 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

ful  script,  however,  changed  his  expression.  He 
sat  back  and  stared  at  Warrington. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

Bennington  did  not  answer,  but  settled  down 
to  his  task,  reading  carefully  and  slowly.  He  did 
not  look  for  any  signature,  for  he  knew  there 
would  be  none.  He  returned  the  letter,  his  face 
sober,  but  his  eyes  dancing. 

"Now,  what  the  deuce  do  you  see  that  is  so 
amusing?" 

"Oh,  nothing." 

"Don't  tell  me  there  isn't  any  romance  in  the 
world.  But,  hang  it,  Jack,  I'm  not  worth  a  letter 
like  that,"  earnestly. 

"Of  course  not." 

"I'm  not  jesting.  I've  sown  wild  oats,  and  God 
knows  wrhat  the  harvest  will  be.  There's  a  law  that 
exacts  payment.  Retribution  is  the  only  certain 
thing  in  this  world." 

"Oh,  you're  no  worse  than  the  average  man. 
But  the  average  man  is  jolly  bad,"  Bennington 
added  gravely.  "But  you,  Dick ;  I'm  not  worrying 
about  you.  Perhaps  the  writer  of  that  letter  sees 
good  in  you  that  you  can't  see  yourself;  good  that 
is  in  you  but  of  which  you  are  unconscious.  One 
thing,  you  have  never  besmirched  the  talents  God 
64 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

gave  you.    Everything-  you  have  done  has  been 
clean  and  wholesome — like  yourself." 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  that!  But  I've  had  no 
ties,  Jack,  none.  You  can't  keep  to  a  course  with 
out  a  compass.  The  real  good  in  life,  the  good  that 
makes  life  worth  while,  is  the  toil  for  those  you 
love.  I  love  nobody,  not  even  myself.  But  this 
girl  rather  woke  me  up.  I  began  to  look  inward, 
as  they  say.  So  far  I've  not  discovered  much  good. 
I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  meet  this  writer." 

"Doubtless  you  will  find  her  charming." 

Suddenly  Warrington  turned  upon  his  friend. 
"But  what  I  want  to  know  is,  what  brought  you 
around  here  this  time  o'  night  ?  I  never  knew  you 
to  do  anything  without  a  definite  purpose." 

"That's  precisely  what  I've  been  waiting  for 
you  to  lead  up  to.  The  truth  is — "  Benning- 
ton  hesitated.  His  hand,  idly  trailing  over  the 
desk,  came  into  contact  with  something  smooth 
and  soft.  It  was  a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves,  a  wom 
an's.  Absently  he  drew  them  through  his  hand. 
He  was  only  half  conscious  of  his  action,  and  he 
did  not  observe  Warrington's  sudden  agitation. 
"The  truth  is,  I've  gone  and  done  it.  I'm  going 
to  be  married  in  June,  and  I  want  you  to  be  my 
best  man." 

65 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

Warrington's  hand  went  out  impulsively. 

"Oh,  I  felt  it  in  my  bones  when  your  card  came 
in,"  he  said,  rearranging  the  glasses.  "Lucky 
woman !  Long  life  to  you,  Jack,  and  long  happi 
ness!" 

"Thank  you,  Dick."  (Ceremonial  recurrence  of 
drinking  a  health. ) 

"Now,  out  with  it.  Who  is  she,  and  all  about 
her?" 

"Dick,  I'm  genuinely  sorry,  but  I'm  still  under 
bond  of  silence." 

"More  mysteries !"  cried  Warrington,  with  evi 
dent  discontent. 

"Only  for  a  week,  when,  if  you  say,  we'll  have 
breakfast  here  in  these  very  rooms." 

"Done.  Only  I  must  say  you're  a  bit  hard  on 
me  to-night." 

"I'm  sorry." 

"Let  me  see ;  I'll  describe  her  for  you.  Beauti 
ful." 

"Y^s." 

"Accomplished." 

"Very." 

"A  woman  who  will  be  both  wife  and  comrade." 

"Exactly." 

"An  American." 

66 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"In  all  things." 

"You  make  me  envious." 

"Why  don't  you  get  married  yourself  ?" 

"Bah!"  Warrington  went  to  the  window  and 
looked  down  upon  the  street. 

Bennington  eyed  his  broad  shoulders  sympa 
thetically.  He  looked  down  at  the  limp,  smooth 
skins  in  his  hand,  and  sat  up  stiffly.  From  the 
gloves  to  Warrington  and  back  again  to  the 
gloves,  his  gaze  traveled.  With  an  impulse  rather 
mechanical  he  raised  the  gloves  to  his  nose.  Quick 
ly  he  dropped  them  on  the  desk,  took  up  the  photo 
graph,  rose  and  replaced  it  on  the  mantel.  Hear 
ing  him,  Warrington  turned. 

"No,  Jack,  I  doubt  if  I  shall  ever  be  lucky 
enough  to  find  the  one  woman.  I've  been  so  busy 
that  I've  never  had  time  to  hunt  for  happiness. 
And  those  who  hunt  for  it  never  find  it,  and  those 
who  wait  for  it  can  not  see  it  standing  at  their 
side." 

Bennington  wandered  about,  from  object  to  ob 
ject.  Here  he  picked  up  a  dagger,  there  a  tur 
quoise  in  the  matrix,  and  again  some  inlaid  wood 
from  Sorrento.  From  these  his  interest  traveled 
to  and  lingered  over  some  celebrated  autographs. 

"Happiness  is  a  peculiar  thing,"  went  on  the 
67 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

dramatist.  "It  is  far  less  distinctive  than  fame  or 
fortune.  They  sometimes  knock  at  your  door,  but 
happiness  steals  in  without  warning,  and  often 
leaves  as  mysteriously  as  it  comes." 

Bennington  paused  to  examine  a  jade  cigarette 
case,  which  he  opened  and  closed  aimlessly.  And 
there  were  queer  little  Japanese  ash-trays  that  ar 
rested  his  attention. 

"Men  like  you  and  me,  Jack,  never  marry  un 
less  we  love.  It  is  never  a  business  transaction." 

"It  is  love  or  nothing,"  said  Bennington,  turn 
ing  his  face  toward  Warrington.  The  smile  he 
gave  was  kindly.  "Yes,  true  happiness  can  be 
sought  only  in  those  we  love.  There  is  happiness 
even  in  loving  some  one  who  does  not  love  you." 
Bennington  repressed  a  sigh.  "But,  Dick,  you'll 
be  the  best  man  ?" 

"Depend  upon  me.  What  do  you  say  to  this 
day  week  for  breakfast  here  ?" 

"That  will  be  wholly  agreeable  to  me." 

Bennington's  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  leaned 
upon  the  desk  and  took  his  light  from  the  chimney. 
Men  who  have  traveled  widely  never  waste 
matches. 

"Can't  you  bunk  here  for  the  night?  There's 
plenty  of  room,"  said  Warrington. 

68 


"Impossible,  Dick.  I  leave  at  midnight  for 
home.  I  must  be  there  to-morrow  morning.  I'm 
afraid  of  trouble  in  the  shops.  The  unions  are  de 
termined  to  push  me  to  the  limit  of  my  patience." 

"Why  the  deuce  don't  you  get  rid  of  the 
shops  ?" 

"They're  the  handiwork  of  my  father,  and  I'm 
proud  to  follow  his  steps."  Bennington's  eyes 
were  no  longer  at  peace;  they  sparkled  with  de 
fiance.  "Half-past  ten !"  suddenly.  "I  must  be 
going.  My  luggage  is  still  at  the  hotel.  God  bless 
you,  Dick!" 

Their  hands  met  once  again. 

"You  know,  Jack,  that  I  love  you  best  of  all 
men." 

"You  are  sure  there  is  no  woman?" 

Warrington  laughed  easily.  "Ah,  if  there  was 
a  woman !  I  expect  to  be  lonely  some  day." 

Bennington  put  on  his  hat  and  gloves,  and 
Warrington  followed  him  into  the  hall.  Once  the 
prospective  bridegroom  paused,  as  if  he  had  left 
something  unsaid ;  but  he  seemed  to  think  the  bet 
ter  of  silence,  and  went  on. 

"Tuesday  morning,  then  ?" 

"Tuesday  morning.    Good  night." 

"Good  night,  and  luck  attend  you." 
69 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

The  door  closed,  and  Warrington  went  slowly 
back  to  his  desk,  his  mind  filled  with  pleasant 
recollections  of  youth.  He  re-read  the  letter,  stud 
ied  it  thoroughly,  in  hopes  that  there  might  be  an 
anagram.  There  was  nothing  he  could  see,  and 
he  put  it  away,  rather  annoyed.  He  arranged  the 
sheets  and  notes  of  the  scenario,  marshaled  the 
scattered  pencils,  and  was  putting  the  glasses  on 
the  tray,  when  a  sound  in  the  doorway  caused 
him  to  lift  his  head.  One  of  the  glasses  tumbled 
over  and  rolled  across  the  desk,  leaving  a  trail  of 
water  which  found  its  level  among  the  ash-trays. 

"It  is  quite  evident  that  you  forgot  me,"  said 
the  woman,  a  faint  mirthless  smile  stirring  her 
lips.  "It  was  very  close  in  there,  and  I  could  hear 
nothing."  She  placed  a  hand  on  her  forehead, 
swayed,  and  closed  her  eyes  for  a  second. 

"You  are  faint!"  he  cried,  springing  toward 
her. 

"It  is  nothing,"  she  replied,  with  a  repelling 
gesture.  "John  Bennington,  was  it  not?" 

"Yes."  His  eyes  grew  round  with  wonder. 

"I  was  going  to  keep  it  secret  as  long  as  I 
could,  but  I  see  it  is  useless.  He  is  the  man  I  have 
promised  to  marry."  Her  voice  had  a  singular 
quietness. 

70 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

Warrington  retreated  to  his  desk,  leaning  heav 
ily  against  it. 

"Bennington?  You  are  going  to  marry  John 
Bennington?"  dully,. 

"Yes." 

He  sat  down  abruptly  and  stared  at  her  with 
the  expression  of  one  who  is  suddenly  confronted 
by  some  Medusa's  head,  as  if  in  the  straggling 
wisps  of  hair  that  escaped  from  beneath  her  hat 
he  saw  the  writhing  serpents.  She  was  going  to 
marry  John  Bennington ! 

She  stepped  quickly  up  to  the  desk  and  began 
to  scatter  things  about.  Her  hands  shook,  she 
breathed  rapidly,  her  delicate  nostrils  dilating 
the  while. 

"Look  out!"  he  warned,  at  her  side  the  same 
instant.  "Your  hat  is  burning!"  He  smothered 
the  incipient  flame  between  his  palms. 

"Never  mind  the  hat.  My  gloves,  Dick,  my; 
gloves!  I  left  them  here  on  the  desk." 

"Your  gloves?"  Then  immediately  he  recol 
lected  that  he  had  seen  them  in  Bennington's 
hands,  but  he  was  positive  that  the  gloves  meant 
nothing  to  Bennington.  He  had  picked  them  up 
just  as  he  would  have  picked  up  a  paper-cutter,  a 
pencil,  a  match-box,  if  any  of  these  had  been 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

mortals.  Of  one  thing  you  may  be  reasonably 
sure:  Helen  was  kept  religiously  in  the  back 
ground.  You  will  find  no  city  named  after  her; 
nor  Sappho,  nor  Aspasia.  The  explorer  and  the 
geographer  have  never  given  woman  any  recogni 
tion;  it  was  left  to  the  poets  to  sing  her  praises. 
Even  Columbus,  fine  old  gentleman  that  he  was, 
absolutely  ignored  Isabella  as  a  geographical 
name. 

The  city  of  Herculaneum  (so  called  in  honor 
of  one  Hercules)  was  very  well  named.  To  be 
come  immortal  it  had  the  same  number  of  tasks 
to  perform  as  had  old  Hercules.  The  Augean 
Stables  were  in  the  City  Hall;  and  had  Hercules 
lived  in  Herculaneum,  he  never  would  have  sat 
with  the  gods.  The  city  lay  in  a  pleasant  valley, 
embraced  by  imposing  wooded  hills.  There  was 
plenty  of  water  about,  a  lake,  a  river,  a  creek; 
none  of  these,  however,  was  navigable  for  com 
mercial  purposes.  But  this  in  nowise  hindered 
the  city's  progress.  On  the  tranquil  bosom  of  the 
Erie  Canal  rode  the  graceful  barges  of  commerce, 
straight  and  slowly  through  the  very  heart  of  the 
town.  Like  its  historic  namesake,  the  city  lived 
under  the  eternal  shadow  of  smoke,  barring  Sun 
days;  but  its  origin  was  not  volcanic,  only  bitu- 

74 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

minous.  True,  year  in  and  year  out  the  streets 
were  torn  up,  presenting  an  aspect  not  unlike  the 
lava-beds  of  Vesuvius;  but  as  this  phase  always 
implies,  not  destruction,  but  construction,  mur 
murs  were  only  local  and  few.  It  was  a  prosper 
ous  and  busy  city.  It  grew,  it  grows,  and  will 
grow.  Long  life  to  it!  Every  year  the  city  di 
rectory  points  with  pride  to  its  growing  bulk.  A 
hundred  thousand  people;  and,  as  Max  O'Rell 
said — "All  alive  and  kicking!"  Herculaneum 
held  its  neighbors  in  hearty  contempt,  like  the 
youth  who  has  suddenly  found  his  man's  strength, 
and  parades  round  with  a  chip  on  his  shoulder. 

Three  railroad  lines  ran  through  the  business 
section,  bisecting  the  principal  thoroughfares. 
The  passenger  trains  went  along  swiftly  enough, 
but  often  freights  of  almost  interminable  length 
drawled  through  the  squares.  I  say  drawled  ad 
visedly.  Surely  the  whuff-whuff  of  the  engine 
seems  to  me  a  kind  of  mechanical  speech ;  and  to 
this  was  often  added  the  sad  lowing  of  cattle. 
From  time  to  time  some  earnest  but  misdirected 
young  man  would  join  the  aldermanic  body,  and 
immediately  lift  up  his  voice  in  protest.  It  was 
outrageous,  and  so  forth;  the  railroads  must  be 
brought  to  their  senses,  and  so  forth.  Presently  a 

75 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

mortals.  Of  one  thing  you  may  be  reasonably 
sure:  Helen  was  kept  religiously  in  the  back 
ground.  You  will  find  no  city  named  after  her; 
nor  Sappho,  nor  Aspasia.  The  explorer  and  the 
geographer  have  never  given  woman  any  recogni 
tion;  it  was  left  to  the  poets  to  sing  her  praises. 
Even  Columbus,  fine  old  gentleman  that  he  was, 
absolutely  ignored  Isabella  as  a  geographical 
name. 

The  city  of  Herculaneum  (so  called  in  honor 
of  one  Hercules)  was  very  well  named.  To  be 
come  immortal  it  had  the  same  number  of  tasks 
to  perform  as  had  old  Hercules.  The  Augean 
Stables  were  in  the  City  Hall;  and  had  Hercules 
lived  in  Herculaneum,  he  never  would  have  sat 
with  the  gods.  The  city  lay  in  a  pleasant  valley, 
embraced  by  imposing  wooded  hills.  There  was 
plenty  of  water  about,  a  lake,  a  river,  a  creek; 
none  of  these,  however,  was  navigable  for  com 
mercial  purposes.  But  this  in  nowise  hindered 
the  city's  progress.  On  the  tranquil  bosom  of  the 
Erie  Canal  rode  the  graceful  barges  of  commerce, 
straight  and  slowly  through  the  very  heart  of  the 
town.  Like  its  historic  namesake,  the  city  lived 
under  the  eternal  shadow  of  smoke,  barring  Sun 
days;  but  its  origin  was  not  volcanic,  only  bitu- 

74 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

minous.  True,  year  in  and  year  out  the  streets 
were  torn  up,  presenting  an  aspect  not  unlike  the 
lava-beds  of  Vesuvius;  but  as  this  phase  always 
implies,  not  destruction,  but  construction,  mur 
murs  were  only  local  and  few.  It  was  a  prosper 
ous  and  busy  city.  It  grew,  it  grows,  and  will 
grow.  Long  life  to  it!  Every  year  the  city  di 
rectory  points  with  pride  to  its  growing  bulk.  A 
hundred  thousand  people;  and,  as  Max  O'Rell 
said — "All  alive  and  kicking!"  Herculaneum 
held  its  neighbors  in  hearty  contempt,  like  the 
youth  who  has  suddenly  found  his  man's  strength, 
and  parades  round  with  a  chip  on  his  shoulder. 

Three  railroad  lines  ran  through  the  business 
section,  bisecting  the  principal  thoroughfares. 
The  passenger  trains  went  along  swiftly  enough, 
but  often  freights  of  almost  interminable  length 
drawled  through  the  squares.  I  say  drawled  ad 
visedly.  Surely  the  whuff-whuff  of  the  engine 
seems  to  me  a  kind  of  mechanical  speech ;  and  to 
this  was  often  added  the  sad  lowing  of  cattle. 
From  time  to  time  some  earnest  but  misdirected 
young  man  would  join  the  aldermanic  body,  and 
immediately  lift  up  his  voice  in  protest.  It  was 
outrageous,  and  so  forth;  the  railroads  must  be 
brought  to  their  senses,  and  so  forth.  Presently  a 

75 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

meeting  would  come  and  go  without  his  voice  be 
ing  heard,  another,  and  yet  another.  By  and  by 
he  would  silently  cast  his  vote  for  the  various 
businesses  under  hand,  and  go  home.  The  old- 
timers  would  smile.  They  understood.  They 
rode  on  annuals  themselves. 

All  the  same,  Herculaneum  was  a  beautiful  city 
in  parts.  Great  leafy  maples  and  elms  arched  the 
streets  in  the  residential  quarters,  and  the  streets 
themselves  were  broad  and  straight.  There  were 
several  dignified  buildings  of  ten  and  twelve 
stories,  many  handsome  banks,  several  clubs,  and 
two  or  three  passable  monuments.  There  were 
at  that  time  five  enterprising  newspapers,  four 
frankly  partizan  and  one  independent.  Personali 
ties  entered  freely  into  the  editorials,  which  often 
abounded  in  wit  and  scholarship.  There  were 
three  theaters,  and  many  churches  of  many  de 
nominations;  religion  and  amusement,  to  thrive, 
must  have  variety.  There  were  great  steel  shops, 
machine-shops,  factories  and  breweries.  And 
'there  were  a  few  people  who  got  in  touch  with 
one  another,  and  invented  society. 

•Herculaneum  has  its  counterpart  in  every  state ; 
each  city  is  a  composite  of  all  the  others*  A  fash 
ion  in  New  York  is  immediately  reproduced  in 

76 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

every  other  city  on  the  continent.  Conservatism, 
day  by  day,  becomes  more  and  more  retiring; 
presently  it  will  exist  only  in  Webster,  side  by 
side  with  the  word  prehistoric. 

It  was  Sunday  in  Herculaneum,  a  June  Sun 
day,  radiant  with  sunshine.  The  broad  green 
leaves  of  the  maples  shivered,  lacing  the  streets 
with  amber  and  jade,  and  from  a  thousand  emer 
ald  gardens  rose  the  subtle,  fragrant  incense  of 
flowers.  How  still  and  beautiful  this  day  seems 
to  us  who  have  hurried  hither  and  thither  for  six 
long  days,  sometimes  in  anger,  sometimes  in  ex 
ultation,  failure  or  success!  It  breathes  a  peace 
and  quiet  that  is  tonic.  Upon  this  day  there  is 
truce  between  us  and  the  enemy. 

In  Herculaneum  they  still  went  to  church  on  a 
Sunday  morning.  Perhaps  it  was  merely  habit, 
perhaps  it  was  simply  formality,  perhaps  it  was 
only  to  parade  new  clothes ;  anyhow,  they  went  to 
church.  At  ten-thirty  the  procession  started; 
gentlemen  in  their  tiles,  ladies  in  their  furbelows, 
children  stiffly  starched.  Some  rode  to  church, 
but  the  majority  walked.  There  were  many 
store-windows  to  preen  before,  as  in  a  mirror. 
Vanity  has  something  to  her  credit,  after  all;  it 

77 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

is  due  to  her  that  most  of  us  make  an  effort  to 
keep  spruce  and  clean. 

Comment  passed  like  the  fall  of  dominoes. 
Some  woman,  ultra-fashionable,  would  start  the 
chatter.  She  never  saw  anything  like  the  gowns 
Mrs.  Jones  wore;  Mrs.  Jones  touched  upon  the 
impossible  feathers  of  Mrs.  Smith's  hat,  and  Mrs. 
Smith  in  turn  questioned  the  exquisite  com 
plexion  of  Mrs.  Green,  who  thought  Mrs.  White's 
children  the  homeliest  in  the  city.  (Can't  you 
hear  the  dominoes  going  down?) 

The  men  nodded  here  and  there,  briefly.  Sat 
urday  night  in  a  provincial  town  holds  many 
recollections. 

The  high  church  was  a  stately  pile  of  granite, 
with  lofty  spire  and  fine  memorial  windows. 
Doves  fluttered  about  the  eaves.  Upon  this  par 
ticular  Sunday  morning  there  seemed  to  be  some 
thing  in  the  air  that  was  not  a  component  part  of 
any  of  the  elements.  It  was  simply  a  bit  of  news 
which  the  church-goers  had  read  in  the  papers  thatl 
morning.  To  many  a  bud  and  belle  it  was  a 
thunder-clap,  a  bolt  from  a  cloudless  heaven. 
They  whispered  about  it,  lifted  their  eyebrows, 
and  shrugged  their  shoulders.  But  their  mamas 
gave  no  sign.  If  the  fox  of  disappointment  ate 

78 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

into  their  vitals,  they  determined,  Spartan-like, 
that  none  should  know  it.  An  actress!  Men 
might  marry  actresses  in  England,  but  Hercula- 
neum  still  clung  to  the  belief  that  actresses  were 
not  eligible. 

Some  of  the  men  had  seen  Katherine  Challoner 
act,  and  they  sighed,  retrospectively  and  intro- 
spectively. 

"I  feel  for  Mrs.  Bennington  and  her  daughter. 
It  must  be  a  great  blow  to  their  pride."  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene  sat  down  in  her  pew-seat  and 
arranged  her  silk  petticoats.  Mrs.  Wilmington- 
Fairchilds  sat  down  beside  her.  "You  know  I 
never  meddle  with  scandal." 

Mrs.  Fairchilds  nodded  brightly. 

"Never.  I  never  repeat  anything  I  hear.  The 
Archibald  affair  was  enacted  right  under  my  very 
nose;  but  did  I  circulate  what  I  saw?  I  think 
not!  That  woman! — but  there!  I  pray  for  her 
every  night." 

"Was  it  really  true,  then?"  asked  Mrs.  Fair 
childs,  breathless.  She  knew  something  about  the 
Archibald  affair,  but  not  enough. 

"I  saw  it  all  with  these  eyes,"  flatly.  "But,  as 
I  said,  I  keep  my  hands  clean  of  scandal."  Her 
hands  were  white  and  flabby.  "I  consider  it  not 

79 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

only  wicked  to  start  a  scandal,  but  positively  bad 
taste.  The  lightest  word  sometimes  ruins  a  repu 
tation." 

"Mrs.  Archibald — "  began  Mrs.  Fairchilds. 

"Not  another  word,  my  dear.  I've  said  noth 
ing  at  all;  I  haven't  even  told  you  what  I  saw. 
But  an  actress  is  different.  Think  of  it,  my  dear ! 
She  will  live  among  us  and  we  shall  have  to  meet 
her.  Think  of  the  actors  who  have  kissed  her  in 
their  make-believe  love  affairs !  It  is  so  horribly 
common.  I  have  heard  a  good  many  things  about 
her.  She  has  romped  in  studios  in  male  attire  and 
smokes  cigarettes.  I  should  not  want  any  son  of 
mine  to  be  seen  with  her.  I'm  not  saying  a  single 
word  against  her,  mind  you;  not  a  single  word. 
You  know  as  well  as  I  do  what  a  wild  fellow 
Warrington  is.  Well,  she  has  been  going  around 
with  him." 

"But  they  took  him  up  in  London,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilmington-Fairchilds. 

"London !  London  society,  indeed !  It's  the 
greatest  jumble  in  the  world:  nobility  hobnobs 
with  jockeys,  piano-players,  writers  and  actors." 

Mrs.  Fairchilds  shook  her  head  sadly.  She 
had  always  believed  London  society  quite  the 
proper  thing,  and  she  had  followed  the  serials  of 

80 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"The  Duchess"  with  reverent  awe.  But  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene  ought  to  know;  she  had  trav 
eled  in  Europe  several  seasons.  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene  was  one  of  the  prominent  social  leaders, 
and  Mrs.  Fairchilds  had  ambitions.  The  ready 
listener  gets  along  very  well  in  this  old  world  of 
ours. 

"I  always  knew  that  some  time  or  other  the  ple 
beian  Bennington  blood  would  crop  out,"  went  on 
Mrs.  Haldene.  "But  we  must  not  criticize  the 
dead,"  benignly. 

"We  shall  have  to  receive  her." 

"After  a  fashion,"  replied  Mrs.  Haldene,  open 
ing  her  prayer-book.  Her  tone  implied  that 
things  would  not  go  very  smoothly  for  the  inter 
loper.  "All  this  comes  from  assimilating  Eng 
lish  ideas,"  she  added. 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  was  one  of  those  for 
tunate  persons  who  always  have  their  names  in 
the  society  columns  of  the  Sunday  newspapers. 
Either  she  was  among  those  present,  or  she  gave 
a  luncheon,  or  she  assisted  at  a  reception,  or  was 
going  out  of  town,  or  coming  back.  Those  who 
ran  their  husbands  in  debt  to  get  into  society  al 
ways  looked  to  see  what  Mrs.  Haldene  had  been 
doing  the  past  week.  The  society  reporters,  very 

81 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

often  smug  young  women  of  aristocratic  but  im 
poverished  families,  called  her  up  by  telephone 
every  day  in  the  week.  Mrs.  Haldene  pretended 
to  demur,  but  the  reporters  found  her  an  inex 
haustible  mine  of  tittle-tattle.  Sometimes  they 
omitted  some  news  which  she  considered  impor 
tant;  and,  as  the  saying  goes,  the  hair  flew.  She 
found  many  contestants  for  the  leadership;  but 
her  rivals  never  lasted  more  than  a  month.  She 
was  president  of  hospital  societies,  orphan 
asylums,  and  the  auxiliary  Republican  Club,  and 
spoke  at  a  bimonthly  club  on  the  servant  ques 
tion.  Everybody  was  a  little  afraid  of  her,  with 
one  exception. 

The  society  columns  of  the  Sunday  newspapers 
have  become  permanently  established.  In  every 
city  and  hamlet  from  New  York  to  San  Fran 
cisco,  you  will  find  the  society  column.  It  is  all 
tommyrot  to  the  outsider;  but  the  proprietor  is 
generally  a  shrewd  business  man  and  makes  van 
ity  pay  tribute  to  his  exchequer.  The  column, 
especially  in  early  summer,  begins  something  like 
this: 

June  will  be  a  busy  month  for  brides,  and  King 
Cupid  and  his  gala  court  will  hold  sway.  The 
bridal  processions  will  begin  to  move  this  week  in 

82 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

homes  and  churches.  On  Wednesday,  at  high  noon, 
the  marriage  of  Miss  Katherine  Challoner,  the  well- 
known  actress,  and  Mr.  John  Bennington,  of  this 
city,  will  be  solemnized  in  New  York.  Only  the 
immediate  relatives  will  be  present.  Richard  War- 
rington,  our  own  celebrated  townsman,  will  act  as 
best  man.  The  announcement  comes  as  a  great 
surprise  to  society,  as  Mr.  Bennington  was  looked 
upon  as  a  confirmed  bachelor. 

And   again   you  will  find  something  of  this 
sort: 


April  22 — Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  leaves  next 
week  for  Washington,  where  she  will  be  the  guest 
of  Senator  Soandso's  wife. 

April  29 — Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  left  yesterday 
for  Washington. 

May  6 — Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene,  who  is  visiting 
in  Washington,  will  return  next  week. 

May  13 — Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  has  returned 
home  from  a  delightful  visit  in  Washington. 

Sometimes,  when  there  was  no  escape  from  it, 
Mr.  Franklyn-Haldene's  name  also  appeared. 

From  mundane  things  to  the  spiritual ! 

"Yes,  I  feel  for  Mrs.  Bennington,"  continued 
Mrs.  Haldene.  "We  have  to  submit  to  our  boys' 
running  around  with  actresses;  but  to  marry 
them!" 

"And  married  life,  I  understand,  seldom  agrees 
83 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

with  them.  They  invariably  return  to  the  stage. 
I  wonder  if  this  woman  has  ever  been  married 
before?" 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised.  For  my  part,  I'm 
very  glad  the  ceremony  will  not  be  performed  in 
the  church.  Hush !"  with  a  warning  glance  over 
her  shoulder. 

There  was  a  sudden  craning  of  necks,  an  agita 
tion  among  the  hats  and  bonnets.  Down  the 
aisle  came  a  handsome,  dignified  woman  in 
widow's  weeds,  a  woman  who  was  easily  fifty- 
six,  but  who  looked  as  if  she  had  just  crossed  the 
threshold  of  the  forties.  Her  face  was  serene, 
the  half-smile  on  her  lips  was  gentle  and  sweet, 
her  warm  brown  eyes  viewed  the  world  peace 
fully.  Ah,  how  well  she  knew  that  to-day  this 
temple  of  worship  was  but  a  den  of  jackals,  ready 
to  rend  her  if  she  so  much  as  hesitated,  so  much 
as  faltered  in  look  or  speech !  Never  should  they 
feed  themselves  upon  her  sorrow.  She  went  on, 
smiling  here  and  there.  The  low  hum,  the  pallid 
lights,  the  murmur  from  the  organ,  all  seemed 
cruelly  accented.  Her  pew  was  third  from  the 
chancel ;  she  was  but  half-way  through  the  gant 
let  of  curious  eyes. 

Following  her  was  a  young  girl  of  twenty. 
84 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

She  was  youth  in  all  its  beauty  and  charm  and 
fragrance.  Many  a  young  masculine  heart 
throbbed  violently  as  she  passed,  and  straightway 
determined  to  win  fame  and  fortune,  if  for  no ! 
other  purpose  than  to  cast  them  at  her  feet.  This 
was  Patty  Bennington. 

The  two  reached  their  pew  without  mishap, 
and  immediately  rested  their  heads  reverently 
upon  the  rail  in  prayer.  Presently  the  music 
ceased,  the  rector  mounted  the  pulpit,  and  the 
day's  service  began.  I  doubt  if  many  could  tell 
you  what  the  sermon  was  about  that  day. 

No  other  place  offers  to  the  speculative  eye  of 
the  philosopher  so  many  varied  phases  of  hu 
manity  as  the  church.  In  the  open,  during  the 
week-days,  there  is  little  pretense,  one  way  or  the 
pther;  but  in  church,  on  Sunday,  everybody,  or 
nearly  everybody,  seems  to  have  donned  a  mask, 
a  transparent  mask,  a  smug  mask,  the  mask  of 
the  known  hypocrite.  The  man  who  is  a  brute  to 
his  wife  goes  meekly  to  his  seat;  the  miser,  who1 
has  six  days  pinched  his  tenants  or  evicted  them, 
passes  the  collection  plate,  his  face  benevolent; 
the  woman  whose  tongue  is  that  of  the  liar  and 
the  gossip,  who  has  done  her  best  to  smirch  the 
reputation  of  her  nearest  neighbor,  lifts  her  eyes 

85 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

heavenward  and  follows  every  word  of  a  sermon 
she  can  not  comprehend ;  and  the  man  or  woman 
who  has  stepped  aside  actually  believes  that  his 
or  her  presence  in  church  hoodwinks  every  one. 
Heigh-ho!  and  envy  with  her  brooding  yellow 
eyes  and  hypocrisy  with  her  eternal  smirk  sit  side 
by  side  in  church. 

Oh,  there  are  some  good  and  kindly  people  in 
this  ragged  world  of  ours,  and  they  go  to  church 
with  prayer  in  their  hearts  and  goodness  on  their 
lips  and  forgiveness  in  their  hands.  They  wear 
no  masks;  their  hearts  and  minds  go  in  and  out 
of  church  unchanged.  These  are  the  salt  of  the 
earth,  and  do  not  often  have  their  names  in  the 
Sunday  papers,  unless  it  is  in  the  matter  of  their 
wills  and  codicils.  Then  only  do  the  worldly 
know  that  charity  had  walked  among  them  and 
they  knew  her  not. 

Of  such  was  Miss  Anna  Warrington,  spinster- 
aunt  of  Richard.  She  occupied  the  other  half  of 
the  Bennington  pew.  Until  half  a  dozen  years 
ago,  when  her  boy  had  come  into  his  own,  she 
had  known  but  little  save  poverty  and  disillusion ; 
and  the  good  she  always  dreamed  of  doing  she 
was  now  doing  in  fact.  Very  quietly  her  with 
ered  old  hand  stole  over  the  low  partition  and 

86 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

pressed  Mrs.  Bennington's  hand.  The  clasp 
spoke  mutely  of  courage  and  good-will.  She 
knew  nothing  of  awe,  kindly  soul ;  the  great  and 
the  small  were  all  the  same  to  her.  She  remem 
bered  without  rancor  the  time  when  Mrs.  Ben- 
nington  scarcely  noticed  her;  but  sorrow  had 
visited  Mrs.  Bennington  and  widened  her  vision 
and  broadened  her  heart;  and  the  two  met  each 
other  on  a  common  basis,  the  loss  of  dear  ones. 

The  clock  is  invariably  hung  in  the  rear  of  the 
church.  The  man  who  originally  selected  this  po 
sition  was  evidently  a  bit  of  a  cynic.  Perhaps  he 
wanted  to  impress  the  preacher  with  the  fact  that 
there  must  be  a  limitation  to  all  things,  even  good 
sermons;  or  perhaps  he  wanted  to  test  the  pa 
tience  and  sincerity  of  the  congregation.  The 
sermon  was  rather  tedious  this  Sunday;  shiny, 
well-worn  platitudes  are  always  tedious.  And 
many  twisted  in  their  seats  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  clock. 

Whenever  Patty  looked  around  ( for  youth  sits 
impatiently  in  church),  always  she  met  eyes,  eyes, 
eyes.  But  she  was  a  brave  lass,  and  more  than 
once  she  beat  aside  the  curious  gaze.  How  she 
hated  them !  She  knew  what  they  were  whisper 
ing,  whispering.  Her  brother  was  going  to 

87 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

marry  an  actress.  She  was  proud  of  her  broth 
er's  choice.  He  was  going  to  marry  a  woman 
who  was  as  brilliant  as  she  was  handsome,  who 
counted  among  her  friends  the  great  men  and 
women  of  the  time,  wrho  dwelt  in  a  world  where 
mediocrity  is  unknown  and  likewise  unwelcome. 
Mediocrity's  teeth  are  sharp  only  for  those  who 
fear  them. 

Patty  was  nervous  on  her  mother's  account, 
not  her  own.  It  had  been  a  blow  to  the  mother, 
who  had  always  hoped  to  have  her  boy  to  herself 
as  long  as  she  lived.  He  had  never  worried  her 
with  flirtations;  there  had  been  no  youthful  af 
fairs.  The  mother  of  the  boy  who  is  always  fall 
ing  in  love  can  meet  the  final  blow  half-way.  Mrs. 
Bennington  had  made  an  idol  of  the  boy,  but  at 
the  same  time  she  had  made  a  man  of  him.  From 
the  time  he  could  talk  till  he  had  entered  man's 
estate,  she  had  been  constant  at  his  side,  now  with 
wisdom  and  learning,  now  with  laughter  and  wit, 
always  and  always  with  boundless  and  brooding 
love.  The  first  lesson  had  been  on  the  horror  of 
cruelty;  the  second,  on  the  power  of  truth;  the 
third,  on  the  good  that  comes  from  firmness.  It 
is  very  easy  to  make  an  idol  and  a  fool  of  a  boy ; 
but  Mrs.  Bennington  always  had  the  future  in 

88 


mind.  It  was  hard,  it  was  bitter,  that  another 
should  step  in  and  claim  the  perfected  man.  She 
had  been  lulled  into  the  belief  that  now  she  would 
have  him  all  her  own  till  the  end  of  her  days. 
But  it  was  not  to  be.  Her  sense  of  justice  was 
evenly  balanced ;  her  son  had  the  same  right  that 
his  father  had;  it  was  natural  that  he  should  de 
sire  a  mate  and  a  home  of  his  own ;  but,  neverthe 
less,  it  was  bitter.  That  his  choice  had  been  an 
actress  caused  her  no  alarm.  Her  son  was  a  gen 
tleman;  he  would  never  marry  beneath  him;  it 
was  love,  not  infatuation;  and  love  is  never  love 
unless  it  can  find  something  noble  and  good  to 
rest  upon.  It  was  not  the  actress,  no;  the  one 
great  reiterating  question  was:  did  this  brilliant 
woman  love  her  son?  Was  it  the  man  or  his 
money?  She  had  gone  to  New  York  to  meet 
Miss  Challoner.  She  had  steeled  her  heart  against 
all  those  subtle  advances,  such  as  an  actress  knows 
how  to  make.  She  had  gone  to  conquer,  but  had 
been  conquered.  For  when  Kate  Chailoner  de 
termined  to  charm  she  was  not  to  be  resisted. 
She  had  gone  up  to  the  mother  and  daughter  and 
put  her  arms  around  them.  "I  knew  that  I  should 
love  you  both.  How  could  I  help  it  ?  And  please 
be  kind  to  me:  God  has  been  in  giving  me  your 

89 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

son."  Ah,  if  she  had  only  said :  "I  shall  love  you 
because  I  love  him!"  But  there  was  doubt, 
haunting  doubt.  If  the  glamour  of  married  life 
wore  out,  and  the  craving  for  publicity  returned, 
this  woman  might  easily  wreck  her  son's  life  and 
the  lives  of  those  who  loved  him. 

She  was  very  glad  when  the  service  came  to 
an  end  and  the  stir  and  rustle  announced  the  de 
parture  of  the  congregation. 

At  the  door  she  found  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene. 
She  rather  expected  to  find  her.  They  were  ene 
mies  of  old. 

"Shall  I  congratulate  you  ?"  asked  the  formid 
able  person. 

Many  of  the  congregation  stopped.  They 
hadn't  the  courage  of  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene, 
but  they  lacked  none  of  her  curiosity. 

"You  may,  indeed,"  returned  Mrs.  Bennington 
serenely.  She  understood  perfectly  wetl ;  but  she 
was  an  old  hand  at  woman's  war.  "My  son  is 
very  fortunate.  I  shall  love  my  new  daughter 
dearly,  for  she  loves  my  son." 

"She  is  just  splendid !"  said  Patty,  with  spark 
ling  eyes.  How  she  longed  to  scratch  the  powder 
from  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene's  beak-like  nosel 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Busybody,  meddler !  "I  never  suspected  John  had 
such  good  sense." 

"You  are  very  fortunate,"  said  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene.  She  smiled,  nodded,  and  passed  on 
into  the  street.  A  truce ! 

Mr.  Franklyn-Haldene,  as  he  entered  the  car 
riage  after  his  wife,  savagely  bit  off  the  end  of  a 
cigar. 

"What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  you  women, 
anyhow  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Franklyn!" 

"Why  couldn't  you  leave  her  alone?  You're 
all  a  pack  of  buzzards,  waiting  for  some  heart  to 
peck  at.  Church ! — bah !" 

It  was  only  on  rare  occasions  that  Mr.  Frank 
lyn-Haldene  voiced  his  sentiments.  On  these  oc 
casions  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  rarely  spoke. 
There  was  a  man  in  her  husband  she  had  no  de 
sire  to  rouse.  Mr.  Haldene  was  the  exception 
referred  to ;  he  was  not  afraid  of  his  wife. 

They  rode  homeward  in  silence.  As  they 
passed  the  Warrington  place,  Mr.  Haldene  again 
spoke. 

"Warrington  is  home  over  Sunday.  Saw  him 
on  horseback  this  morning." 

91 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"There's  one  thing  I'm  thankful  for :  the  wed 
ding  will  not  be  in  Herculaneum." 

"Humph!" 

"It's  disgusting;  and  we  shall  have  to  receive 
her.  But  I  do  not  envy  her  her  lot." 

"Neither  do  I,"  said  Haldene.  "You  women 
have  already  mapped  out  a  nice  little  hell  for  her. 
Why  should  you  be  so  vindictive  simply  because 
she  is  an  actress?  If  she  is  good  and  honest, 
what  the  deuce?" 

"There's  no  use  arguing  with  you." 

"I'm  glad  you've  found  that  out.  You'd  find 
out  lots  of  other  things  if  you  stayed  home  long 
enough.  I  shall  treat  the  woman  decently." 

"I  dare  say  all  you  men  will." 

"And  you,  Madam,  shall  be  among  the  first  to 
call  on  her.  Mind  that !" 

She  looked  at  the  man  pityingly.  Men  never 
understood.  Call  on  her?  Of  course,  she  would 
call  on  her.  For  how  could  she  make  the  woman 
unhappy  if  she  did  not  call  on  her  ? 


92 


CHAPTER   V 

i 

Every  city  has  its  Fifth  Avenue.  That  which 
we  can  not  have  as  our  own  we  strive  to  imitate. 
Animal  and  vegetable  life  simply  reproduces  it 
self;  humanity  does  more  than  that,  it  imitates. 
Williams  Street  was  the  Fifth  Avenue  of  Hercu- 
laneum.  It  was  broad,  handsome,  and  climbed  a 
hill  of  easy  incline.  It  was  a  street  of  which  any 
city  might  be  justly  proud.  Only  two  or  three 
houses  jarred  the  artistic  sense.  These  were  built 
by  men  who  grew  rich  so  suddenly  and  unexpect 
edly  that  their  sense  of  the  grotesque  became  ab 
normal.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  to  note  that  the 
children  of  this  class  become  immediately  seized 
with  a  species  of  insanity,  an  insanity  which  urges 
them  on  the  one  hand  to  buy  newspapers  with 
dollar-bills,  and  on  the  other  to  treat  their  parents 
with  scant  respect.  Sudden  riches  have,  it  would 
seem,  but  two  generations :  the  parent  who  accu 
mulates  and  the  son  who  spends. 

The  Warrington  home  (manor  was  applied  to 
but  few  houses  in  town)  stood  back  from  the 

93 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

street  two  hundred  feet  or  more,  on  a  beautiful 
natural  terrace.  The  lawn  was  wide  and  crisp  and 
green,  and  the  oak  trees  were  the  envy  of  many. 
The  house  itself  had  been  built  by  one  of  the  early 
settlers,  and  Warrington  had  admired  it  since 
boyhood.  It  was  of  wood,  white,  with  green 
blinds  and  wide  verandas,  pillared  after  the  colo 
nial  style.  Warrington  had  purchased  it  on  a  bank 
foreclosure,  and  rather  cheaply,  considering  the 
location.  The  interior  was  simple  but  rich.  The 
great  fireplace  was  made  of  old  Roman  bricks; 
there  were  exquisite  paintings  and  marbles  and 
rugs  and  china,  and  books  and  books.  Very  few 
persons  in  Herculaneum  had  been  inside,  but  these 
few  circulated  the  report  that  the  old  house  had 
the  handsomest  interior  in  town.  Straightway 
Warrington' s  income  became  four  times  as  large 
as  it  really  was. 

The  old  aunt  and  the  "girl"  kept  the  house 
scrupulously  clean,  for  there  was  no  knowing 
when  Richard  might  take  it  into  his  head  to  come 
home.  The  "girl's"  husband  took  care  of  the 
stables  and  exercised  the  horses.  And  all  went 
very  well. 

Warrington  seldom  went  to  church.  It  was  not 
because  he  was  without  belief ;  there  was  a  strong 

94 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

leaven  of  faith  underlying  his  cynicism.  Frankly, 
sermons  bored  him.  It  was  so  easy  for  his  imag 
inative  mind  to  reach  out  and  take  the  thought 
from  the  preacher's  mouth  almost  before  he  ut 
tered  it.  Thus,  there  was  never  any  suspense,  and 
suspense  in  sermons,  as  in  books  and  plays,  is  the 
only  thing  that  holds  captive  our  interest. 

So  he  stayed  at  home  and  read  the  Sunday  pa 
pers.  That  part  not  devoted  to  society  and  foreign 
news  was  given  up  wholly  to  local  politics.  Both 
the  Democratic  and  Republican  parties  were  in 
bad  odor.  In  the  Common  Council  they  were  giv 
ing  away  street-railway  franchises ;  gambling-dens 
flourished  undisturbed,  and  saloons  closed  only 
when  some  member  of  the  saloon-keeper's  family 
died.  The  anti-gambling  league  had  succeeded  in 
suppressing  the  slot  machines  for  a  fortnight ;  this 
was  the  only  triumph  virtue  could  mark  down  for 
herself.  There  were  reformers  in  plenty,  but  their 
inordinate  love  of  publicity  ruined  the  effective 
ness  of  their  work.  A  brass  band  will  not  move 
the  criminal  half  so  quickly  as  a  sudden  pull  at  the 
scruff  of  his  neck.  So  the  evil-doer  lay  low,  or 
borrowed  the  most  convenient  halo  and  posed  as 
a  deeply-wronged  man.  Warrington,  as  he  read, 
smiled  in  contempt.  They  had  only  one  real  man 

95 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

in  town,  scoundrel  though  he  was.  There  are  cer 
tain  phases  of  villainy  that  compel  our  admira 
tion,  and  the  villainy  pf  McQuade  was  of  this 
order.  The  newspapers  were  evidently  subsidized, 
for  their  clamor  was  half-hearted  and  hypocrit 
ical.  Once  or  twice  Warrington  felt  a  sudden 
longing  to  take  off  his  coat  and  get  into  the  fight ; 
but  the  impulse  was  transitory.  He  realized  that 
he  loved  ease  and  comfort  too  well. 

Finally  he  tossed  aside  the  sheets  and  signaled 
to  the  dog.  It  was  a  bull  terrier,  old  and  scarred, 
and  unchanging  in  his  affections.  He  loved  this 
master  of  his,  even  if  he  saw  him  but  once  a  year. 
They  understood  each  other  perfectly.  He  was  a 
peace-loving  animal,  but  he  was  a  fighter  at  times 
— like  his  master.  He  had  a  beautiful  head,  broad 
punishing  jaws,  and,  for  all  his  age,  he  had  not 
run  to  fat,  which  is  the  ignominious  end  of  all 
athletes,  men  or  dogs. 

"Old  boy,  this  is  a  jolly  bad  world." 
;     Jove  wagged  his  stump  of  a  tail. 

"We  should  all  be  thieves  if  it  were  not  for  pub 
licity  and  jail." 

Jove  coughed  deprecatingly.  Perhaps  he  recol 
lected  purloined  haunches  of  aforetime. 

"Sometimes  I've  half  a  mind  to  pack  up  and 
96 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

light  out  to  the  woods,  and  never  look  at  a  human 
being  again." 

Jove  thought  this  would  be  fine ;  his  tail  said  so. 

"But  I'm  like  a  man  at  a  good  play ;  I've  simply  • 
got  to  stay  and  see  how  it  ends,  for  the  great ' 
Dramatist  has  me  guessing." 

Warrington  stared  into  the  kind  brown  eyes 
and  pulled  the  ragged  ears.  There  was  a  kind  of 
guilt  in  the  old  dog's  eyes,  for  dogs  have  con 
sciences.  If  only  he  dared  tell  his  master !  There 
was  somebody  else  now.  True,  this  somebody 
else  would  never  take  the  master's  place ;  but  what 
was  a  poor  dog  to  do  when  he  was  lonesome  and 
never  laid  eyes  on  his  master  for  months  and 
months?  Nobody  paid  much  attention  to  him  in 
this  house  when  the  master  was  away.  He  re 
spected  aunty  (who  had  the  spinster's  foolish 
aversion  for  dogs  and  the  incomprehensible  affec 
tion  for  cats!)  and  for  this  reason  never  molested 
her  supercilious  Angora  cat.  Could  he  be  blamed 
if  he  sought  (and  found)  elsewhere  affection 
and  confidence?  Why,  these  morning  rides  were 
as  good  as  a  bone.  She  talked  to  him,  told  him  her 
secrets  ( secrets  he  swore  on  a  dog's  bible  never  to 
reveal!)  and  desires,  and  fed  him  chicken,  and 
cuddled  him.  There  were  times  when  he  realized 
97 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

that  old  age  was  upon  him ;  some  of  these  canters 
left  him  breathless  and  groggy. 

"I've  been  thinking,  boy,"  the  master's  voice 
went  on.  "New  York  isn't  so  much,  after  all.  I 
wasn't  city  born,  and  there  are  times  when  the 
flowing  gold  of  the  fields  and  the  cool  woods  call. 
Bah !  There's  nothing  now  to  hold  me  anywhere. 
I  hope  she'll  make  him  happy ;  she  can  do  it  if  she 
tries.  Heigh-ho !  the  ride  this  morning  has  made 
me  sleepy.  To  your  rug,  boy,  to  your  rug." 

Warrington  stretched  himself  on  the  lounge 
and  fell  asleep.  And  thus  the  aunt  found  him  on 
her  return  from  church.  She  hated  to  wake  him, 
but  she  simply  could  not  hold  back  the  news  till 
luncheon.  She  touched  his  arm,  and  he  woke  with 
the  same  smile  that  had  dimpled  his  cheeks  when 
he  was  a  babe  in  her  arms.  Those  of  us  who  have 
retained  the  good  disposition  of  youth  never  scowl 
upon  being  awakened. 

"Aha,"  he  cried,  sitting  up  and  rubbing  his 
eyes. 

"Richard,  I  wish  you  had  gone  to  church  this 
morning." 

"And  watched  the  gossips  and  scandal-mongers 
twist  their  barbs  in  Mrs.  Bennington's  heart? 
Hardly." 

98 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

She  gazed  at  him,  nonplussed.  There  was  sure 
ly  something1  uncanny  in  this  boy,  who  always 
seemed  to  know  what  people  were  doing,  had  done 
or  were  going  to  do. 

"I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  my  congrega 
tion,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Bennington  is  a  woman  of  the 
world ;  she  understands  how  to  make  barbs  harm 
less.  But  that's  why  I  never  go  to  church.  It 
doesn't  soothe  me  as  it  ought  to ;  I  fall  too  easily 
into  the  habit  of  pulling  my  neighbor's  mind  into 
pieces.  Gossip  and  weddings  and  funerals;  your 
reputation  in  shreds,  your  best  girl  married,  your 
best  friend  dead.  I  find  myself  nearer  Heaven 
when  I'm  alone  in  the  fields.  But  I've  been  think 
ing,  Aunty." 

"About  what?" 

"About  coming  home  to  stay." 

"Oh,  Richard,  if  you  only  would !"  sitting  be 
side  him  and  folding  him  in  her  arms.  "I'm  so 
lonely.  There's  only  you  and  I ;  all  the  others  I've 
loved  are  asleep  on  the  hill.  Do  come  home,  Rich 
ard  ;  you're  all  I  have." 

"I'm  thinking  it  over." 

Here  the  Angora  came  in  cautiously.  She  saw 
Jove  and  the  dog  saw  her;  fur  and  hair  bristled. 

99 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Jove  looked  at  his  master  beseechingly — "Say  the 
word,  Dick,  say  the  word,  and  I'll  give  you  an  en 
tertainment."  But  the  word  did  not  come. 

"There's  your  church-goers,  Aunty;  always 
ready  to  fly  at  each  other.  In  order  to  study  hu 
manity  thoroughly,  one  must  first  learn  the  ways 
of  the  beast." 

"I'm  afraid  your  dog's  a  traitor." 

"A  traitor?" 

"Yes.  Half  the  time  he  runs  over  to  the  Ben- 
ningtons'  and  stays  all  night.  I  don't  see  why  he 
should." 

"Maybe  they  pet  him  over  there.  Perhaps  he 
wants  a  hand  sometimes,  just  like  human  beings 
when  they're  lonely.  If  you  petted  him  once  in  a 
while,  one  pat  for  every  ten  you  give  the  cat,  the 
old  boy  would  be  tickled  to  death." 

"But  I'm  kind  to  him,  Richard;  he  has  the  best 
meat  I  can  buy.  I'd  pet  him,  too,  but  I'm  afraid 
of  him.  I'm  always  afraid  of  dogs.  Besides,  his 
feet  are  always  muddy  and  his  hair  falls  out  and 
sticks  to  everything." 

"Who  is  his  latest  love  ?" 

"Patty  Bennington.    They  go  out  riding  to 
gether.    I  can  always  tell,  for  his  stomach  is  in 
variably  caked  with  dried  mud." 
100 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Patty  Bennington?  The  old  dog  shows  good 
taste.  And  I  had  forgotten  all  about  Bennington's 
having  a  sister.  I  was  thunderstruck  when  I  met 
her  the  other  week  in  New  York.  I  had  really  for 
gotten  her.  She  is  charming." 

"She  is  a  dear  young  girl.  Ah,  Richard,  if  only 
you  would  find  some  one  like  her." 

"Marriages  are  made  in  Heaven,  Aunt,  and  I'm 
going  to  wait  till  I  get  there.  But  I'll  think  it  over 
about  coming  home  to  stay." 

"I'll  be  so  happy!"  the  old  lady  cried.  "I'm 
going  right  out  into  the  kitchen  myself  and  make 
one  of  those  cherry  pies  you  used  to  rave  over." 

She  disappeared ;  and  Warrington  laughed,  rose 
and  stretched  the  sleep  from  his  arms  and  legs, 
and  went  up  stairs  to  dress.  Yes,  he  would  think  it 
over.  There  was  nothing  to  hold  him  in  New 
York,  nothing  but  the  craving  for  noise  and  late 
hours.  Why  not  settle  down  here?  There  would 
be  plenty  to  do.  Besides,  if  he  lived  in  Hercula- 
neum  he  could  run  over  to  the  Bennington  home 
at  any  time  of  day.  His  cheeks  flushed  of  a 
sudden. 

"Hang  it,  am  I  lying  to  myself  about  that  girl? 
Is  it  the  knowledge  that  she'll  be  my  neighbor  that 
inclines  me  to  live  here  ?  I  know  I  shall  miss  her 
101 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

if  I  stay  in  New  York;  I'm  honest  enough  to 
admit  that.  God  knows  I've  nothing  but  honor  in 
my  heart  for  her.  Why,  I  wouldn't  even  kiss  her 
hand  without  old  Jack's  consent.  Well,  well;  the 
scene  in  the  church  Wednesday  will  solve  all 
doubts — if  I  have  any." 

The  Sunday  luncheon  passed  uneventfully.  The 
aunt  said  nothing  more  about  his  coming  home  to 
stay.  She  knew  her  boy;  urging  would  do  more 
harm  than  good ;  so  she  left  him  to  decide  freely. 

"Is  the  pie  good,  Richard  ?"  she  asked. 

"Fine !  Can  you  spare  me  another  piece  ?" 

"I'm  glad  you'll  never  be  top  proud  to  eat  pie," 
she  returned. 

"Not  even  when  it's  humble,"  laughed  War- 
rington. 

"There  are  some  folks  roundabout  who  do  not 
think  pie  is  proper,"  seriously. 

"Not  proper?  Tommyrot!  Pie  is  an  institu 
tion  ;  it  is  as  unassailable  as  the  Constitution  of  the 
country.  I  do  not  speak  of  the  human  constitu 
tion.  There  are  some  folks  so  purse-proud  that 
they  call  pies  tarts." 

She  looked  askance  at  him.  There  were  times 
when  she  wasn't  quite  sure  of  this  boy  of  hers. 
He  might  be  serious,  and  then  again  he  might  be 
102 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

quietly  laughing.    But  she  saw  with  satisfaction 
that  the  pie  disappeared. 

"The  world,  Richard,  isn't  what  it  was  in  my 
time." 

"I  dare  say  it  isn't,  Aunty;  yet  cherries  are  just 
as  good  as  ever  and  June  as  beautiful.  It  isn't 
the  world,  Aunt  o'  mine;  it's  the  plaguy  people. 
Those  who  stay  away  from  church  ought  to  go, 
and  those  who  go  ought  to  stay  away.  I'm  going 
down  to  the  club  this  afternoon.  I  shall  dine  there, 
and  later  look  up  the  Benningtons.  So  don't  keep 
dinner  waiting  for  me." 

"Cheer  her  up,  Richard;  she  needs  cheering. 
It's  been  a  blow  to  her  to  lose  her  boy.  If  you'd 
only  get  married,  too,  Richard,  I  could  die  con 
tent.  What  in  the  world  shall  you  do  when  I  am 
gone?" 

"Heaven  knows !"  The  thought  of  losing  this 
dear  old  soul  gave  a  serious  tone  to  his  voice.  He 
kissed  her  on  the  cheek  and  went  out  into  the  hall. 
Jove  came  waltzing  after  him.  "Humph!  What 
do  you  want,  sir?  Want  to  go  out  with  me,  eh? 
Very  well ;  but  you  must  promise  to  behave  your 
self.  I'll  have  you  talking  to  no  poor-dog  trash, 
mind."  Jove  promised  unutterable  things.  "Come 
on,  then." 

103 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

He  walked  slowly  down  town,  his  cane  behind 
his  back,  his  chin  in  his  collar,  deep  in  meditatioru- 
He  knew  instinctively  that  Mrs.  Bennington 
wanted  to  talk  to  him  about  the  coming  marriage. 
He  determined  to  tell  her  the  truth,  truth  that 
would  set  her  mother's  heart  at  peace. 

Jove  ran  hither  and  thither  importantly.  It  was 
good  to  be  out  with  the  master.  He  ran  into  this 
yard  and  that,  scared  a  cat  up  a  tree,  chased  the 
sparrows,  and  grumbled  at  the  other  dogs  he  saw. 
All  at  once  he  paused,  stiffened,  each  muscle  tense, 
Warrington,  catching  the  pose,  looked  up.  A 
handsome  trotter  was  coming  along  at  a  walk.  In 
the  light  road-wagon  sat  a  man  and  a  white  bull 
dog.  It  was  easy  for  Warrington  to  recognize 
McQuade,  who  in  turn  knew  that  this  good-look 
ing  young  man  must  be  the  dramatist.  The  two 
glanced  at  each  other  casually.  They  were  unac 
quainted.  Not  so  the  dogs.  They  had  met.  The 
white  bull  teetered  on  the  seat.  Jove  bared  his 
strong  teeth.  How  he  hated  that  sleek  white  brute 
up  there!  He  would  have  given  his  life  for  one 
good  hold  on  that  broad  throat.  The  white  dog 
was  thinking,  too.  Some  day,  when  the  time  came, 
he  would  clean  the  slate.  Once  he  had  almost  had 
104 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

the  tan  for  his  own.  And  he  hated  the  girl  who 
had  beaten  him  off  with  her  heavy  riding-crop. 

McQuade  drove  on,  and  Warrington  resumed 
his  interrupted  study  of  the  sidewalk.  McQuade 
thought  nothing  more  about  the  fellow  who  wrote 
plays,  and  the  dramatist  had  no  place  in  his  mind 
for  the  petty  affairs  of  the  politician.  Fate, 
however,  moves  quite  as  certainly  and  mysteri 
ously  as  the  cosmic  law.  The  bitter  feud  between 
these  two  men  began  with  their  dogs. 

At  the  club  Warrington  found  a  few  lonely 
bachelors,  who  welcomed  him  to  the  long  table 
in  the  grill-room ;  but  he  was  in  no  mood  for  gos 
sip  and  whisky.  He  ordered  a  lithia,  drank  it 
quickly,  and  escaped  to  the  reading-room  to  write 
some  letters. 

Down  in  the  grill-room  they  talked  him  over. 

"I  don't  know  whether  he  boozes  now,  but  he 
used  to  be  tanked  quite  regularly,"  said  one. 

"Yes,  and  they  say  he  writes  best  when  half- 
seas  over." 

"Evidently,"  said  a  third,  "he  doesn't  drink 
unless  he  wants  to ;  and  that's  more  than  most  of 
us  can  say." 

"Pshaw !  Sunday's  clearing-up  day ;  nobody 
105 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

drinks  much  on  Sunday.  I  wonder  that  War- 
rington  didn't  marry  Challoner  himself.  He  went 
around  with  her  a  lot." 

Everybody  shrugged.    You  can  shrug  away  a 
,  reputation  a  deal  more  safely  than  you  can  talk  it. 

"Oh,  Bennington's  no  ass.  She's  a  woman  of 
brains,  anyhow.  It's  something  better  than  mar 
rying  a  little  fool  of  a  pretty  chorus  girl.  She'll 
probably  make  things  lively  for  one  iron-monger. 
If  the  hair  doesn't  fly,  the  money  will.  He's  a 
good  sort  of  chap,  but  he  wants  a  snaffle  and  a 
curb  on  his  high-stepper." 

Then  the  topic  changed  to  poker  and  the  mar^ 
velous  hands  held  the  night  before. 

Warrington  finished  his  correspondence,  dined 
alone,  and  at  seven-thirty  started  up  the  street  to 
the  Benningtons'.  Jove,  with  the  assurance  of  one 
who  knows  he  will  be  welcomed,  approached  the 
inviting  veranda  at  a  gallop.  His  master,  how 
ever,  followed  with  a  sense  of  diffidence.  He 
noted  that  there  was  a  party  of  young  people  on 
the  veranda.  He  knew  the  severe  and  critical  eye 
of  youth,  and  he  was  a  bit  afraid  of  himself. 
Evidently  Miss  Patty  had  no  lack  of  beaux.  Miss 
Patty  in  person  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  steps, 
and  smiled. 

106 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"I  was  half  expecting  you,"  she  said,  offering 
a  slim  cool  hand. 

Warrington  clasped  it  in  his  own  and  gave  it 
a  friendly  pressure. 

"Thank  you,"  he  replied.  "Please  don't  dis 
turb  yourselves,"  he  remonstrated,  as  the  young 
men  rose  reluctantly  from  their  chairs.  "Is  Mrs- 
Bennington  at  home?" 

"You  will  find  her  in  the  library."  Then  Patty 
introduced  him.  There  was  some  constraint  on 
the  part  of  the  young  men.  They  agreed  that, 
should  the  celebrity  remain,  he  would  become  the 
center  of  attraction  at  once,  and  all  the  bright 
things  they  had  brought  for  the  dazzlement  of 
Patty  would  have  to  pass  unsaid. 

To  youth,  every  new-comer  is  a  possible  rival ; 
he  wouldn't  be  human  if  he  didn't  believe  that 
each  man  who  comes  along  is  simply  bound  to  fall 
in  love  with  the  very  girl  he  has  his  eyes  on. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  young  girls  regretted 
that  the  great  dramatist  wasn't  going  to  sit  be 
side  them.  There  is  a  strange  glamour  about 
these  men  and  women  who  talk  or  write  to  us 
from  over  the  footlights.  As  Warrington  disap 
peared  into  the  hallway,  the  murmur  and  fre 
quent  laughter  was  resumed. 
107 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Mrs.  Bennington  was  very  glad  to  see  him. 
She  laid  aside  her  book  and  made  room  for  him 
on  the  divan.  They  talked  about  the  weather,  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place  since  the  fall,  a 
scrap  of  foreign  travel  of  mutual  interest,  each 
hoping  that  the  other  would  be  first  to  broach  the 
subject  most  vital  to  both.  Finally,  Mrs.  Ben- 
nington  realized  that  she  could  fence  no  longer. 

"It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come.  I  have  so 
many  things  to  ask  you." 

"Yes." 

"My  boy's  determination  to  marry  has  been 
very  sudden.  I  knew  nothing  till  a  month  ago. 
I  love  him  so,  and  my  whole  heart  hungers  for 
one  thing — the  assurance  that  he  will  be  happy 
with  the  woman  of  his  choice." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Bennington,  Jack  will  marry  a. 
woman  who  is  as  loyal  and  honest  as  she  is  bril 
liant  and  beautiful.  Miss  Challoner  is  a  woman 
any  family  might  be  proud  to  claim.  She  num 
bers  among  her  friends  many  of  the  brilliant 
minds  of  the  age;  she  compels  their  respect  and 
admiration  by  her  intellect  and  her  generosity. 
Oh,  Jack  is  to  be  envied.  I  can  readily  understand 
the  deep-rooted  antagonism  the  actress  still  finds 
among  the  laity.  It  is  a  foolish  prejudice.  I  can 
108 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

point  out  many  cases  where  the  layman  has  mar 
ried  an  actress  and  has  been  happy  and  contented 
with  his  lot." 

"But  on  the  obverse  side?"  with  a  smile  that 
was  sad  and  dubious. 

"Happiness  is  always  in  the  minority  of  cases, 
in  all  walks  of  life.  Happiness  depends  wholly 
upon  ourselves;  environment  has  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  Most  of  these  theatrical  marriages  you 
have  read  about  were  mere  business  contracts. 
John  is  in  love." 

"But  is  he  loved?" 

"Miss  Challoner  has  a  very  comfortable  for 
tune  of  her  own.  She  would,  in  my  opinion,  be 
the  last  person  in  the  world  to  marry  for  money 
or  social  position,  the  latter  of  which  she  already 
has." 

But  she  saw  through  his  diplomacy. 

"Perhaps  she  may  desire  a  home?" 

"That  is  probable;  but  it  is  quite  evident  to  me 
that  she  wants  John  with  it." 

"There  are  persons  in  town  who  will  do  their 
best  to  make  her  unhappy." 

"You  will  always  find  those  persons ;  but  I  am 
confident  Miss  Challoner  will  prove  a  match  for 
any  of  them.  There  is  no  other  woman  in  the 
109 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

world  who  knows  better  than  she  the  value  of 
well-applied  flattery." 

"She  is  certainly  a  charming  woman ;  it  is  im 
possible  not  to  admit  that  frankly.  But  you,  who 
are  familiar  with  the  stage,  know  how  unstable 
people  of  that  sort  are.  Suppose  she  tires  of  John  ? 
It  would  break  my  heart." 

"Ah,  all  that  will  depend  upon  Jack.  Doubt 
less  he  knows  the  meaning  of  'to  have  and  to 
hold.'  To  hold  any  woman's  love,  a  man  must 
make  himself  indispensable;  he  must  be  her  part 
ner  in  all  things :  her  comrade  and  husband  when 
need  be,  her  lover  always.  There  can  be  no  going 
back  to  old  haunts,  so  attractive  to  men ;  club  life 
must  become  merely  an  incident.  Again,  he  must 
not  be  under  her  feet  all  the  time.  Too  much  or 
too  little  will  not  do;  it  must  be  the  happy  be 
tween." 

"You  are  a  very  wise  young  man." 

Warrington  laughed  embarrassedly.  "I  have 
had  to  figure  out  all  these  things." 

"But  if  she  does  not  love  him !" 

"How  in  the  world  can  she  help  it  ?" 

She  caught  up  his  hand  in  a  motherly  clasp. 

"We  mothers  are  vain  in  our  love.    We  make 
our  sons  paragons;  we  blind  ourselves  to  their 
no 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

faults;  we  overlook  their  follies,  and  condone 
their  sins.  And  we  build  so  many  castles  that 
one  day  tumble  down  about  our  ears.  Why  is  it 
a  mother  always  wishes  her  boy  to  marry  the 
woman  of  her  choice  ?  What  right  has  a  mother 
to  interfere  with  her  son's  heart-desires  ?  It  may 
be  that  we  fear  the  stranger  will  stand  between 
us.  A  mother  holds,  and  always  will  hold,  that 
no  woman  on  earth  is  good  enough  for  her  son-. 
Now,  as  I  recollect,  I  did  not  think  Mr.  Bennin^- 
ton  too  good  for  me."  She  smiled  drolly. 

Lucky  Jack !  If  only  he  had  had  a  mother  like 
this !  Warrington  thought. 

"I  dare  say  he  thought  that,  too,"  he  said.  "My 
self,  I  never  knew  a  mother's  love.  No  doubt  I 
should  have  been  a  better  man.  Yet,  I've  often 
observed  that  a  boy  with  a  loving  mother  takes 
her  love  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  never  realizes 
his  riches  till  he  has  lost  them.  My  aunt  is  the 
only  mother  I  have  known." 

"And  a  dear,  kind,  loving*  soul  she  is,"  said 
Mrs.  Bennington.  "She  loves  you,  if  not  with 
mother-love,  at  least  with  mother-instinct.  When 
we  two  get  together,  we  have  a  time  of  it ;  I,  laud 
ing  my  boy;  she,  praising  hers.  But  I  go  round 
and  round  in  a  circle :  my  boy.  Sons  never  grow 
in 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

up ;  they  are  always  our  babies ;  they  come  to  us 
with  their  heartaches,  at  three  or  at  thirty ;  there 
is  ever  one  door  open  in  the  storm,  the  mother's 
heart.  If  she  loves  my  boy,  nothing  shall  be  too 
good  for  her." 

"I  feel  reasonably  sure  that  she  does."  Did 
she  ?  he  wondered.  Did  she  love  Jack  as  he  ( War- 
rington)  wanted  some  day  to  be  loved  ? 

"As  you  say,"  the  mother  went  on,  "how  can 
she  help  loving  him  ?  He  is  a  handsome  boy ;  and 
this  alone  is  enough  to  attract  women.  But  he  is 
so  kind  and  gentle,  Richard ;  so  manly  and  strong. 
He  has  his  faults;  he  is  human,  like  his  mother. 
John  is  terribly  strong-willed,  and  this  would 
worry  me,  were  I  not  sure  that  his  sense  of  jus 
tice  is  equally  strong.  He  is  like  me  in  gentle 
ness  ;  but  the  man  in  him  is  the  same  man  I  loved 
in  my  girlhood  days.  When  John  maps  out  a 
course  to  act  upon,  if  he  believes  he  is  right,  noth 
ing  can  swerve  him — nothing.  And  sometimes 
he  has  been  innocently  wrong.  I  told  Miss  Chal- 
loner  all  his  good  qualities  and  his  bad.  She  told 
me  that  she,  too,  has  her  faults.  She  added  that 
there  was  only  one  other  man  who  could  in  any 
manner  compare  with  John,  and  that  man  is  you." 

"I  ?"  his  face  growing  warm. 
112 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Yes.  But  she  had  no  right  to  compare  any 
body  with  my  boy,"  laughing. 

"There  isn't  any  comparison  whatever,"  ad 
mitted  Warrington,  laughing  too.  "But  it  was 
very  kind  of  Miss  Challoner  to  say  a  good  word 
for  me."  And  then  upon  impulse  he  related  how, 
and  under  what  circumstances,  he  had  first  met 
the  actress. 

"It  reads  like  a  story, — a  versatile  woman. 
This  talk  has  done  me  much  good.  I  know  the 
affection  that  exists  between  you  and  John,  and  I 
am  confident  that  you  would  not  misrepresent 
anything.  I  shall  sleep  easier  to-night." 

The  portieres  rattled,  and  Patty  stood  in  the 
doorway. 

"Everybody's  gone;  may  I  come  in?" 

Warrington  rose.  "I  really  should  be  very 
glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  gallantly.  "It's 
so  long  a  time  since  I've  met  young*  people — " 

"Young  people!"  indignantly.  "I  am  not 
young  people;  I  am  twenty,  going  on  twenty- 
one." 

"I  apologize."    Warrington  sat  down. 

Thereupon  Miss  Patty,  who  was  a  good  sailor, 
laid  her  course  close  to  the  wind,  and  with  few 
tacks  made  her  goal,  which  was  the  complete  sub- 
US 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

jugation  of  this  brilliant  man.  She  was  gay, 
sad,  witty  and  wise;  and  there  were  moments 
when  her  mother  looked  at  her  in  puzzled  sur 
prise.  As  for  Warrington,  he  went  from  one 
laugh  into  another. 

Oh,  dazzling  twenty;  blissful,  ignorant,  confi 
dent  twenty!  Who  among  you  would  not  be 
twenty,  when  trouble  passes  like  cloud-shadows 
in  April ;  when  the  door  of  the  world  first  opens  ? 
Ay,  who  would  not  trade  the  meager  pittance, 
wrested  from  the  grinding  years,  for  one  fleet, 
smiling  dream  of  twenty? 

"It  is  all  over  town,  the  reply  you  made  to 
Mrs.  Winthrop  and  that  little,  sawed-off,  witty 
daughter  of  hers." 

"Patty!" 

"Well,  she  is  sawed-off  and  witty." 

"What  did  I  say?"  asked  Warrington,  blush 
ing.  He  had  forgotten  the  incident. 

"Mrs.  Winthrop  asked  you  to  make  her  daugh 
ter  an  epigram,  and  you  replied  that  Heaven  had 
already  done  that." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Warrington,  when  the 
laughter  subsided,  "I  understand  that  my  old  dog 
has  been  running  away  from  home  lately.  I  hope 
he  doesn't  bother  you." 

114 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Bother,  indeed !  I  just  love  him,"  cried  Patty. 
"He's  such  a  lovable  animal.  We  have  such  good 
times  on  our  morning  rides.  We  had  trouble  last 
week,  though.  A  white  bulldog  sprang  at  him. 
Jove  was  so  tired  that  he  would  have  been 
whipped  had  I  not  dismounted  and  beaten  the 
white  dog  off.  Oh,  Jove  was  perfectly  willing  to 
contest  the  right  of  way.  And  when  it  was  all 
over,  who  should  come  along  but  Mr.  McQuade, 
the  politician.  It  was  his  dog.  And  he  hadn't  even 
the  grace  to  make  an  apology  for  his  dog's  ill 
manners." 

"May  I  not  ride  with  you  to-morrow  morn 
ing?"  he  asked.  He  had  intended  to  leave  Her- 
culaneum  at  noon;  but  there  were  many  later 
trains. 

"That  will  be  delightful!  I  know  so  many 
beautiful  roads;  and  we  can  lunch  at  the  Coun 
try  Club.  And  Jove  can  go  along,  too." 

"Where  is  the  traitor  ?" 

"He  is  sound  asleep  on  the  veranda  rugs." 

"Well,  it's  long  past  his  bedtime.  I  must  be 
going." 

"Some  time  I  hope  you  will  come  just  to  call 
on  me." 

"I  shall  not  need  any  urging." 
"5 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

They  followed  him  to  the  door,  and  good 
nights  were  said. 

"Oh,  Patty,  he  has  lifted  so  much  doubt !"  said 
the  mother,  as  the  two  returned  to  the  library. 
"He  has  nothing  but.  praise  for  Miss  Challoner. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  John  will  be  happy." 

"It  is  not  only  possible,  mother  darling,  but 
probable.  For  my  part,  I  think  her  the  most 
charming,  most  fascinating  woman  I  ever  met. 
And  she  told  me  she  rides.  What  jolly  times 
we'll  have  together,  when  John  settles  down  in 
the  new  house !" 

"The  new  house!"  repeated  the  mother,  biting 
her  lips.  "How  the  word  hurts!  Patty,  why 
could  they  not  come  here?  We'll  be  so  lonely. 
Yet,  it  is  the  law  of  Heaven  that  a  man  and  his 
wife  must  live  by  and  for  themselves." 

Warrington  walked  home,  lightened  in  spirit. 
He  swung  his  cane,  gave  Jove  a  dozen  love-taps, 
and  whistled  operatic  airs.  What  a  charming 
young  creature  it  was,  to  be  sure !  The  brain  of  a 
woman  and  the  heart  of  a  child.  And  he  had  for 
gotten  all  about  her.  Now,  of  course,  his  recol 
lection  became  clear.  He  remembered  a  mite  of 
a  girl  in  short  frocks,  wonder-eyes,  and  candy- 
smudged  lips.  How  they  grew,  these  youngsters ! 
116 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

He  went  into  the  house,  still  whistling.  Jove 
ran  out  into  the  kitchen  to  see  if  by  some  possible 
miracle  there  was  another  piece  of  steak  in  his 
grub-pan.  A  dog's  eyes  are  always  close  to  his 
stomach.  Warrington,  finding  that  everybody 
had  gone  to  bed,  turned  out  the  lights  and  went 
up  stairs.  He  knocked  on  the  door  of  his  aunt's 
bedroom. 

"Is  that  you,  Richard  ?" 

"Yes.    May  I  come  in  ?" 

"Certainly." 

He  entered  quietly.  The  moonlight,  pouring 
in  through  the  window,  lay  blue-white  on  the 
counterpane  and  the  beloved  old  face. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

He  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  patted 
her  hands. 

"Aunty,  old  lady,  I'm  through  thinking.  I'm 
going  to  come  home  just  as  soon  as  I  can  fix  up 
things  in  New  York." 

"Richard,  my  boy!"  Her  arms  pulled  him, 
downward.  "I  knew  it  when  you  came  in.  I've, 
prayed  so  long  for  this.  God  has  answered  my 
prayers.  I'm  so  happy.  Don't  you  remember 
how  you  used  to  tell  me  all  your  plans,  the  plots 
of  your  stories,  the  funny  things  that  had  come  to 
117 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

you  during  the  day?  You  used  to  come  home 
late,  but  that  didn't  matter;  you'd  always  find 
some  pie  and  cheese  and  a  glass  of  milk  on  the 
kitchen  table — the  old  kitchen  table.  I'm  so 
glad!" 

"It  may  be  a  month  or  so ;  for  I'll  have  to  sell 
some  of  the  things.  But  I'm  coming  home,  I'm 
coming  home."  He  bent  swiftly  and  kissed  her. 
"Good  night." 


118 


CHAPTER   VI 

Warrington  was  up  and  about  at  six  the  next 
morning.  He  had  never  really  outgrown  the  nat 
ural  habit  of  waking  at  dawn,  but  he  had  fallen 
upon  the  evil  way  of  turning  over  and  sleeping 
till  half  after  nine.  He  ate  a  light  breakfast  and 
went  out  to  the  stables  and  moved  among  the 
stalls,  talking  affectionate  nonsense  to  the  horses. 
A  man  can  not  talk  baby-talk,  that  is  the  undis 
puted  prerogative  of  the  woman;  but  he  has  a 
fashion  of  his  own  which  serves.  "Aha,  old  boy ! 
handsome  beggar!"  or — "How's  the  little  lady 
this  morning,  eh  ?"  or  yet  again — "Rascal !  you've 
been  rubbing  the  hair  off  your  tail !"  In  the  box- 
stall  Warrington's  thoroughbred  Irish  hunter 
nozzled  his  palm  for  loaf-sugar,  and  whinnied 
with  pleasure  when  he  found  it.  One  of  the  first 
things  Warrington  had  done,  upon  drawing  his' 
first  big  royalty  check,  was  to  buy  a  horse.  As  a 
boy  on  the  farm  he  had  hungered  for  the  posses 
sion  of  one  of  those  sleek,  handsome  animals 
which  men  call  thoroughbreds.  Then  for  a  while 
119 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

he  bought,  sold  and  traded  horses,  for  the  mere 
pleasure  it  gave  him  to  be  near  them.  Finally  he 
came  to  Herculaneum  with  two  such  saddle-horses 
as  made  every  millionaire  in  town  (and  there  were 
several  in  Herculaneum)  offer  fabulous  sums 
whenever  they  ran  across  the  owner.  Next,  he 
added  two  carriage-horses,  in  their  way  quite 
equal  to  the  hunters.  Men  offered  to  buy  these, 
too,  but  Warrington  was  a  property  owner  now, 
and  he  wanted  the  horses  for  his  own.  In  New 
York  one  of  his  wealthy  friends  had  given  him 
free  use  of  his  stables :  so  Warrington  rode,  at 
home  and  abroad.  His  income,  ranging  from 
twenty  to  thirty  thousand  the  year,  gave  him  that 
financial  independence  which  neither  the  clerk  nor 
the  millionaire  knew  or  understood.  In  the  phrase 
ology  of  the  day,  he  carried  his  business  under  his 
hat :  in  other  words,  he  had  no  business  cares  or 
responsibilities  whatever. 

Warrington  made  it  a  rule  to  saddle  and  bridle 
his  own  horses ;  grooms  become  careless.  One  or 
two  men  of  his  acquaintance  had  gone  to  their 
death  for  the  want  of  care  and  a  firm  buckle. 
Besides,  he  enjoyed  the  work,  and  it  accustomed 
the  horses  to  his  touch.  He  saddled  his  favorite 
hunter  and  led  the  eager  animal  into  the  open. 
120 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

He  mounted  and  whistled  for  the  dog;  but  Jove 
for  once  did  not  respond ;  doubtless  he  was  out  of 
hearing.  Thereupon  Warrington  started  for  the 
Benningtons'  and  found  Patty  already  in  the 
saddle.  It  was  not  that  the  dramatist  was  blase, 
but  he  had  come  into  contact  with  so  many  beau 
tiful  women  that  his  pulse  rarely  stirred  out  of  its 
healthy,  measured  beat.  But  this  morning  he  was 
conscious  of  a  slight  thrill.  The  girl  was  really 
beautiful;  more  than  that,  she  was  fresh  with 
youth  and  gaiety,  gaiety  which  older  women  find 
necessary  to  repress.  She  was  dressed  in  a  dark 
grey  riding-habit  and  wore  a  beaver  cocked-hat. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said,  touching  his  cap  with 
his  crop.  "I  hope  I  haven't  kept  you  waiting." 

"Only  a  moment."  The  truth  is,  she  wanted  to 
prove  to  him  that  there  was  one  woman  who  did 
not  keep  men  waiting.  "Shall  I  pick  the  going?" 

"I'm  afraid  I've  lost  track  of  the  good  country 
roads." 

"Follow  me,  then." 

They  walked  their  horses  to  the  city  limits. 
You  never  saw  either  of  them  galloping  over 
brick  or  asphalt,  which  quickly  ruins  the  surest- 
footed  horse;  neither  did  they  permit  any  fox 
trotting,  which,  while  it  shows  off  a  spirited  horse, 
121 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

decreases  his  value  in  the  ring.  All  of  which  is  to 
say,  these  two,  like  their  mounts,  were  thorough 
breds. 

"Where  is  Jove?"  she  asked  presently. 

"The  rogue  is  missing.  I  dare  say  he  is  galli 
vanting  around  some  neighbor's  back  yard.  I 
haven't  laid  eyes  on  him  this  morning.  I  believe 
he  realizes  that  he  will  see  me  frequently  here 
after,  and  has  not  bothered  his  head  to  look  me 
up." 

"Frequently  ?"  She  turned  her  head. 

"Yes.  I  am  coming  home  to  live.  Of  course, 
this  is  my  place  of  residence;  my  voter's  bed,  as 
the  politicians  say,  is  here  in  Herculaneum.  But 
I  mean  to  live  here  now  in  deed  as  well  as  in 
thought." 

"I  am  sure  we  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you 
with  us."  This  was  said  gravely.  A  thought, 
which  she  would  have  repelled  gladly,  sprang  into 
being.  "I  know  John  will  be  glad.  He's  always 
talking  about  you  and  your  exploits  at  college." 

"Our  exploits,"  he  corrected,  laughing.  "Shall 
we  give  them  a  little  exercise  now?"  he  asked, 
with  a  gesture  toward  the  long  brown  road. 

She  nodded,  and  they  started  off  at  a  sharp  trot, 
and  presently  broke  into  a  canter.  So  he  was  com- 
122 


HALF    AROGUE 

ing  home  to  live?  She  felt  a  hot  wave  of  sudden 
anger  sweep  over  her,  and  her  hands  tightened 
on  the  reins.  It  was  true,  then?  She  loved  her 
brother.  What  right  had  this  man  at  her  side  to 
threaten  her  brother's  happiness  ?  Had  Katherine 
Challoner  signified  her  desire  not  to  leave  New 
York,  would  Warrington  have  decided  to  return 
to  Herculaneum?  Her  hands  relaxed.  What  a 
silly  little  fool  she  was!  She,  who  despised  and 
contemned  gossip,  was  giving  it  ready  ear.  Had 
she  ever  found  gossip  other  than  an  errant,  cow 
ardly  liar?  Gossip,  gossip!  Ah,  if  gossip,  when 
she  had  made  her  round,  would  not  leave  suspicion 
behind  her;  suspicion,  hydra-headed!  What  sig 
nified  it  that  Warrington  intended  to  come  home 
to  live  ?  What  signified  it  that  her  brother's  wife 
would  live  across  the  way?  She  was  ashamed  of 
her  evil  thought ;  presently  she  would  be  no  better 
than  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene,  or  any  of  those 
women  who  get  together  to  tear  somebody  apart. 
As  if  Warrington  could  compare  with  her  big, 
handsome,  manly  brother!  It  was  all  impossible. 
She  would  punish  herself  for  even  entertaining 
such  a  thought  as  had  been  hers  but  a  moment 
gone. 

She  stole  a  glance  at  Warrington.  He  was  rid- 
123 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

ing  easily,  his  feet  light  in  the  stirrups,  his  head 
thrown  back,  his  eyes  half  closed,  and  was  breath 
ing  deeply  of  the  cool  air,  which  was  heavy  with 
the  smell  of  sweet  clover  and  dew-wet  earth.  It 
was  a  good,  clean,  honest  face.  Indeed,  it  was  all 
impossible.  Dissipation  writes  plainly  upon  the 
human  countenance,  and  it  had  left  no  visible 
sign  on  Warrington's  face.  It  may  be  that  dissi 
pation  sometimes  whimsically  neglects  to  write 
at  all. 

They  thundered  over  a  wooden  bridge.  The 
spirit  of  the  morning  was  in  the  horses ;  they  be 
gan  to  race.  An  unexpected  curve  in  the  road 
discovered  a  road-builder  and  his  gang  of  Italians. 
A  low  barrier  ran  across  the  road.  It  was  not  ex 
actly  needed,  as  they  were  not  digging,  but  laying 
crushed  stone.  The  obstruction  was  simply  for 
the  convenience  of  the  boss,  who  desired  to  work 
unhampered. 

"Shall  we?"  cried  Warrington,  mischief  in  his 
eyes. 

"Yes."  There  was  no  fear  in  this  girl. 

On  they  went,  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  The  Italians 
made  for  the  ditches,  but  the  boss  stood  in  the 
road  and  waved  his  arms  in  warning.  Presently 
1?e,  too,  ducked. 

124 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Hep !  and  over  the  pair  went,  landing  clean  and 
sound  on  the  other  side  of  the  barrier.  Before  the 
surprised  boss  could  express  himself,  they  were 
far  down  the  road.  A  curse  was  hurled  after 
them,  but  they  heard  it  not.  They  hadn't  hurt  the 
road  at  all,  but  the  authority  of  the  boss  had  suf 
fered.  He  knew  the  girl,  little  snob!  He  would 
find  out  whc  the  man  was,  soon  enough.  And  if 
he  had  any  influence  in  the  City  Hall,  as  he  be 
lieved  he  had,  he  would  make  it  tolerably  warm 
for  yonder  vanishing  parties. 

He  had  put  up  that  barrier  to  signify  that  the 
road  was  closed;  very  well,  they'd  see.  Dirt 
under  their  feet,  huh?  All  right.  How  he  hated 
them  all,  with  their  horses  and  carriages  and 
dances  and  dinners  and  clubs!  Bah!  He  took  a 
flask  from  his  pocket  and  drank.  Then  he  cursed 
the  laggard  Italians,  and  mourned  that  a  year  and 
a  half  must  pass  before  he  could  sell  their  votes 
again.  Bolles  contracted  for  Italian  labor  and 
controlled  something  more  than  eight  hundred 
votes.  McQuade  sublet  various  small  contracts 
to  him,  and  in  return  used  the  Italians  during 
elections. 

That  jump,  harmless  enough  in  itself,  was  to 
prove  a  bad  inspiration  on  Warrington's  part. 
125 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

But  it  is  always  these  seemingly  inconsequent 
things  that  bear  the  heaviest  reckoning. 

Half  a  mile  onward  they  drew  down  to  a  walk, 
flushed  and  breathless. 

"Perhaps  we  oughtn't  to  have  done  that,"  she 
said  doubtfully,  working  the  numbness  from  her 
fingers.  "No  thoroughfare"  had  hitherto  been  re 
ligiously  respected  by  her;  this  was  her  first  trans 
gression,  and  she  wasn't  entirely  satisfied  with 
herself. 

"Pshaw !  There's  no  harm  done.  There  was  no 
earthly  reason  why  we  should  have  turned  back  to 
the  fork  and  added  two  miles  to  our  ride.  Don't 
let  anything  like  that  worry  you ;  we  went  by  too 
fast  to  be  recognized.  Look!  here's  a  big  clover 
patch.  I  never  pass  clover  without  wanting  to  get 
down  and  hunt  for  four-leaves.  Shall  we  ?" 

She  was  out  of  the  saddle  before  the  query  had 
left  his  lips. 

"I  believe  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  arm  our 
selves  against  bad  luck,"  she  replied,  gently  mov 
ing  aside  the  clover  heads  with  her  crop. 

"You  believe  in  four-leaf  clover,  then  ?" 

She  nodded. 

"I  do.   I  also  am  very  careful,"  he  added,  "to 
catch  the  money-patches  on  my  coffee." 
126 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

She  laughed.  After  all,  there  was  something 
old-fashioned  about  this  man.  "And  I  never  think 
of  plucking  a  five-leaf.  That's  bad  luck." 

"The  worst  kind  of  bad  luck.  I  remember, 
when  I  was  a  kid,  I  never  played  hooky  without 
first  hunting  up  my  four-leaved  amulet.  If  I  got  a 
licking  when  I  returned  home,  why,  I  consoled 
myself  with  the  thought  that  it  might  have  been 
ten  times  worse  but  for  the  four-leaf." 

They  moved  about,  looking  here  and  there, 
while  the  horses  buried  their  noses  in  the  wet  grass 
and  threatened  never  to  return  to  the  road  again. 
After  a  diligent  search  Patty  found  a  beautiful 
four-leaf  clover.  She  exhibited  it  in  triumph. 

"You've  better  luck  than  I,"  said  Warrington. 
"We  shall  have  to  go  on  without  my  finding  one." 

"You  may  have  this  one,"  she  replied;  "and  I 
hope  it  will  bring  you  all  sorts  of  good  luck." 

He  took  out  his  card-case  and  made  room  for 
the  little  amulet. 

"It  is  impossible  not  to  be  fortunate  now,"  hej 
said,  with  a  gravity  that  was  not  assumed. 

She  looked  at  him  dubiously.  No,  there  was  no 
laughter  in  his  eyes ;  he  was  perfectly  serious. 

They  walked  the  horses  over  a  small  hill,  then 
mounted.    It  was  a  very  pleasant  morning  for 
127 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

Warrington.  It  had  been  years  since  he  had 
talked  to  a  young  woman  who  was  witty  and  un 
worldly.  He  had  to  readjust  himself.  He  had 
written  down  that  all  witty  women  were  worldly, 
ibut  that  all  worldly  women  were  not  witty.  But 
to  be  witty  and  unsophisticated  was  altogether 
out  of  his  calculations. 

At  the  Country  Club  they  stabled  the  horses  and 
wandered  about  the  golf  links.  Luncheon  was 
served  on  the  veranda ;  and  presently  Warrington 
found  himself  confiding  in  this  young  girl  as  if 
he  had  known  her  intimately  all  his  life.  The  girl 
felt  a  thrill  of  exultation.  It  flattered  her  young 
vanity  to  hear  this  celebrity  telling  her  about  his 
ambitions. 

"Everything  becomes  monotonous  after  a 
while,"  he  said.  "And  I  have  just  begun  to  grow 
weary  of  living  alone.  Day  after  day,  the  same 
faces,  the  same  places,  the  same  arguments,  the 
same  work.  I've  grown  tired.  I  want  to  live  like 
other  human  beings.  Monotony  leads  very  quickly 
into  folly,  and  I  confess  to  many  acts  of  folly. 
And  no  folly  is  absolutely  harmless."  He  stirred 
his  tea  and  stared  into  the  cup. 

"Why,  I  should  think  you  ought  to  be  the  most 
contented  of  men,"  she  cried.  "You  are  famous, 
128 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

wealthy,  courted.  And  when  you  return  to  Her- 
culaneum,  every  girl  in  town  will  set  her  cap  for 
you.  I  warn  you  of  this,  because  I've  taken  a 
friendly  interest  in  you." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you.  Come,"  he  said,  drain 
ing  his  cup ;  "surely  you  tell  fortunes  in  tea-cups ; 
tell  mine." 

"Four-leaf  clovers  and  tea-grounds,"  she  mused. 
"You  strike  me  as  being  a  very  superstitious 
young  man." 

"I  am." 

She  passed  the  cup  back  to  him.  "Pour  a  little 
fresh  tea  in,  spill  it  gently,  turn  the  cup  against 
the  saucer  and  twirl  it  three  times.  That's  the  in 
cantation." 

He  followed  the  directions  carefully,  and  she 
extended  her  hand  for  the  cup. 

"There  is  always  a  woman  in  a  man's  tea-cup," 
she  began.  "There  are  two  in  this  one." 

"Good  gracious !" 

"Yes.  Do  you  see  that?"  pointing  to  a  cluster 
of  leaves. 

"Looks  like  a  camel.  Am  I  going  to  be  thirsty?" 

"That  always  indicates  scandal,"  she  declared 
soberly. 

"Scandal  ?"    He  smiled  skeptically. 
129 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Scandal  and  disappointment.  But  happily 
these  do  not  appear  as  having  permanency." 

"Thanks,"  piously.  "Disappointment?  I  can 
readily  believe  that.  Disappointment  has  always 
been  my  portion.  But  scandal  has  never  lifted  her 
ugly  head." 

"We  are  all  far-sighted  when  scandal  is  in  our 
immediate  vicinity.  This  cup  says  scandal.  There 
is  plenty  of  money  about  you.  See  that?  That 
means  an  enemy,  strong,  implacable.  Disappoint 
ment  and  scandal  are  in  his  zone,  which  means  he 
will  probably  be  the  cause  of  all  your  trouble. 
Have  you  an  enemy?" 

"None  that  I  know  of,  save  myself.  But  don't 
you  think  something  is  the  matter  with  the  tea? 
It  seems  impossible  that, those  harmless  grounds 
.  .  .  Why,  I  shan't  sleep  o'  nights  after  this." 

"You  are  laughing.  Yet,  this  man  is  there.  And 
here  is  a  lie,  too.  It's  a  very  bad  cup,  Mr.  War- 
rington.  I'm  sorry." 

"So  am  I,"  gaily.  "By  the  way,  when  do  you 
and  your  mother  start  for  New  York  ?" 

"We  leave  to-night." 

"Good.  Do  you  mind  if  I  take  the  same  train 
down?" 

"Mother  and  I'll  be  glad  to  have  you  with  us." 
130 


*'  It's  a  very  bad  cup,  Mr.  Warrington  "  Page  ijo 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

The  servant  cleared  the  table,  and  Warrington 
lighted  a  cigar.  A  trolley-car  rolled  up  in  front  of 
the  club,  and  several  golf  enthusiasts  alighted. 
They  knew  Patty,  and  bowed ;  they  weren't  quite 
certain  who  her  escort  was. 

At  two  o'clock  they  began  the  journey  home. 
There  wasn't  much  loitering  by  the  way.  Patty 
had  a  tea;  she  must  have  time  to  rest  and  dress. 
All  told,  it  was  an  enjoyable  day  for  Warrington. 
More  than  ever  he  set  his  face  against  the  great 
city  and  looked  with  satisfaction  on  the  hills  of 
his  childhood.  It  would  be  a  pleasant  pastime  to 
sit  on  Patty's  veranda  and  talk,  become,  and  act 
like  one  of  the  young  people.  He  was  growing 
old ;  his  youth  must  be  renewed  soon,  or  he  would 
lose  it  utterly.  This  young  man  had  been  surfeited 
with  noise  and  light,  with  the  sham  and  glitter 
of  hotels,  clubs  and  restaurants.  He  was  not  to 
the  manner  born;  thus  he  could  easily  see  how 
palpably  false  life  is  in  a  great  city.  To  those 
who  have  lived  in  the  abnormal  glamour  of 
city  life,  absolute  quiet  is  a  kind  of  new  excite 
ment. 

Warrington  found  that  he  was  a  bit  stiff  from 
the  long  ride. 

Patty,  however,  rode  nearly  every  day;  so  she 


was  but  slightly  fatigued.  Nevertheless,  she  was 
conscious  of  not  wanting  to  dress  for  the  tea.  But 
there  was  a  very  good  reason  why  she  must  attend 
the  function  (as  applied  by  the  society  reporter)  ; 
they  would  naturally  discuss  her  brother's  coming 
marriage,  but  if  she  was  present,  the  discussion 
would  not  rise  above  whispers.  She  wanted  to 
meet  the  old  busybodies  in  the  open;  she  wasn't 
afraid.  As  she  dressed,  she  caught  herself  doing 
aimless  things,  such  as  approaching  the  window 
and  watching  the  clouds,  or  thoughtfully  studying 
her  face  in  the  mirror,  or  patting  the  rug  impa 
tiently,  or  sighing.  She  shook  herself  vehemently, 
and  went  resolutely  about  the  intricate  business 
known  as  toilet. 

"I  simply  can't  believe  it.  I  know  he  isn't  that 
kind  of  man.  This  can't  be  such  a  wicked  world. 
But  if  she  dares  to  make  John  unhappy,  I  shall 
hate  her.  Why  must  we  hear  these  things  that 
make  us  doubt  and  ponder  and  hesitate?" 

At  the  tea  the  ladies  greeted  her  sympathet 
ically.  Sympathy!  Hypocrites!  Heads  came  to 
gether  ;  she  could  see  them  from  the  corner  of  her 
eyes.  She  saw  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene,  like  a  vast 
ship  of  the  line,  manceuvering  toward  her.  There 
were  several  escapes,  but  Patty  stood  her  ground. 
132 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"You  are  looking  charming,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Haldene. 

"Thank  you." 

"You  go  to  the  wedding,  of  course." 

"Yes;  mother  and  I  leave  to-night  for  New 
York.  I  am  so  excited  over  it.  To  think  of  John's 
being  married  to  a  celebrity!" 

Patty  was  excited,  but  this  excitement  did  not 
find  its  origin  in  anything  exultant.  It  was  on  the 
tip  of  her  tongue  to  tell  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  to 
mind  her  own  business.  There  was  something 
primitive  in  Patty.  Her  second  thoughts  were  due 
to  cultivation,  and  not  from  any  inherent  caution. 

Mrs.  Haldene  smiled  and  went  on.  It  was  a 
wonderful  smile;  it  never  changed;  it  served  for 
all  emotions,  anger,  hate,  love,  envy  and  malice. 
Mrs.  Haldene  never  flew  into  passions  or  ecsta 
sies.  She  was  indeed  preserved;  and  from  the 
puckering  taste  she  left  in  her  wake,  it  might  be 
suspected  that  she  was  pickled. 

Before  Patty  arrived,  two  things  had  been  fully 
discussed :  the  Bennington  wedding  and  the  re 
port  that  Warrington  was  coming  home  to  live. 
Shrugs,  knowing  glances,  hypocritical  resigna 
tion.  Too  bad,  too  bad !  Warrington  was  coming 
home  to  live ;  young  Mrs.  Bennington  would  live 
133 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

across  the  street.   When  two  and  two  make  four, 
what  more  need  be  said  ? 

But  Patty  had  her  friends,  and  they  stood  by 
her  loyally. 

New  York.  Clamor,  clamor;  noise,  noise;  the 
calling  of  cabmen,  the  clanging  of  street-cars,  the 
rumbling  of  the  elevated,  the  roaring  of  the  drays, 
the  rattling  of  the  carts ;  shouting,  pushing,  hur 
rying,  rushing,  digging,  streaming,  pell-mell;  the 
smell  of  coal-gas,  of  food  cooking,  of  good  and 
bad  tobacco,  of  wet  pavements,  of  plaster ;  riches 
and  poverty  jostling;  romance  and  reality  at  war; 
monoliths  of  stone  and  iron ;  shops,  shops ;  signs, 
signs ;  hotels ;  the  tower  of  Babel ;  all  the  nations 
of  the  world  shouldering  one  another;  Jews  and 
Gentiles,  Christians  and  Turks;  jumble,  jumble. 
This  is  New  York.  There  is  nothing  American 
about  it;  there  is  nothing  English,  French,  Ger 
man,  Latin  or  Oriental  about  it.  It  is  cosmopoli 
tan;  that  is  to  say,  it  represents  everything  andf 
nothing. 

Warrington,   Patty  and  her  mother   alighted 

from  the  train  in  the  gloomy,  smoky  cavern  called 

the  Grand  Central  Station  and  walked  toward  the 

gates.    There  was  sunshine  outside,  but  it  was 

134 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

scarcely  noticeable  through  the  blackened  canopy 
overhead. 

"There's  John !"  cried  Patty,  seizing  her  moth 
er's  arm.  "And  Miss  Challoner,  too!" 

A  moment  later  the  son  was  holding  his  mother 
in  a  fond  embrace.  Mrs.  Bennington  gave  the  ac 
tress  her  hand,  who  ignored  it,  put  her  arms 
around  the  mother  and  kissed  her.  There  was  not 
the  slightest  affectation  in  the  act;  it  was  done 
naturally  and  sweetly.  Mrs.  Bennington  was  well 
pleased.  But  Patty,  Miss  Challoner  hugged  Patty 
and  whispered :  "My  sister !"  If  Patty  had  any 
doubts,  they  disappeared  like  summer  mists  in 
sunshine. 

"I'm  a  rank  outsider,"  Warrington  grumbled. 

"Surely  you  did  not  expect  to  be  kissed!"  Patty 
retorted. 

"A  man  never  gives  up  hoping.  Well,  Bene 
dick,"  to  John,  "I  suppose  you've  a  nice  breakfast 
waiting  for  us  somewhere." 

"That  I  have!"  John  thwacked  Warrington  on 
the  shoulder.  "It  was  good  of  you  to  come  down 
with  the  folks." 

"No  trouble  at  all." 

They  all  followed  John,  who  announced  that  he 
had  a  carriage  waiting,  large  enough  to  carry 
135 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

them  all  comfortably.  As  they  crossed  over  to  the 
street  exit  Warrington  covertly  glanced  at  Miss 
Challoner.  She  was  radiant;  there  was  color  on 
her  cheeks  and  lips;  she  was  happy.  Heigh-ho! 
Warrington  sighed.  She  was  gone,  as  completely 
as  though  she  had  died.  He  grew  angry  at  the 
heaviness  of  his  heart.  Was  he  always  to  love 
no  one  but  Warrington  ?  It  is  fine  to  be  a  bachelor 
when  one  is  young ;  but  when  the  years  multiply, 
when  there  are  no  new  junkets  and  old  ones  grow 
stale,  when  scenes  change,  when  friends  drop  out 
one  by  one,  when  a  younger  generation  usurps  the 
primrose  path  of  dalliance,  ah !  the  world  becomes 
a  dreary  place.  The  old  bachelor  is  the  loneliest 
and  most  pathetic  of  men. 

Once  inside  the  carriage,  the  women  began  a 
light,  friendly  chatter ;  smiles  and  laughter ;  little 
jests  about  Benedicks,  about  the  servant  question, 
about  coming  home  late  o'  nights;  antenuptial 
persiflage.  There  was  little  that  was  spontaneous ; 
each  jest  was  an  effort;  but  it  sufficed  to  relieve 
what  might  have  been  awkward  silence. 

"It's  up  to  you,  now,  Dick,"  said  John.  "Think 
of  the  good  times  we  four  could  have  together !" 

"And  who'd  marry  an  old  man  like  me  ?"  asked 
Warrington  plaintively. 

136 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Bosh!"  said  John. 

"Nonsense !"  said  Patty. 

"You  are  a  young  man,"  said  the  mother. 

"There  are  plenty  setting  their  caps  for  you,  if 
you  but  knew  it,"  said  Miss  Challoner. 

"Aha!  I  smell  a  conspiracy!"  laughed  War- 
rington.  "You  are  putting  your  heads  together  to 
get  me  off  your  hands." 

The  breakfast  awaited  them  at  Bennington's 
hotel.  This  passed  off  smoothly.  Then  Warring- 
ton  excused  himself.  He  had  a  business  engage 
ment  down  town.  It  was  arranged,  however,  that 
they  were  to  be  his  guests  that  evening  at  dinner 
and  a  box-party  at  the  summer  opera.  On 
Wednesday,  at  ten,  they  were  to  breakfast  in  his 
apartment.  From  his  rooms  they  would  go 
straight  to  the  parson's,  the  "Little  Church 
Around  the  Corner." 

When  Warrington  had  gone,  John  turned  to 
his  sister. 

"Isn't  he  the  finest  chap?" 

"He  isn't  to  be  compared  with  you,"  Patty  an 
swered. 

"Nobody  is,"  said  Miss  Challoner. 

John  colored  with  pleasure. 

"Mr.  Warrington  is  a  thorough  gentleman,  and 
137 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

I  like  him  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Bennington.  "I 
have  heard  things  about  him ;  I  can  see  that  there 
has  been  some  exaggeration.  I  shall  be  very  g!ad 
to  have  him  for  a  neighbor." 

"A  neighbor  ?"  said  Miss  Challoner. 

"Yes.  He  is  coming  back  to  Herculaneum  to 
live." 

"That  is  news  to  me."  The  actress  stirred  her 
coffee  and  smiled  at  Patty.  "I  understand  you've 
been  riding  together.  He  is  really  a  splendid 
horseman." 

"He  has  the  dearest  old  dog,"  replied  Patty. 

The  day  passed  quickly  for  all  concerned :  the 
dinner  and  box-party  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 

The  wedding-breakfast  would  have  provoked 
envy  in  the  heart  of  Lucullus;  for  Warrington 
was  a  man  of  the  world,  thoroughly  polished; 
there  was  nothing  Stoic  about  him  (though,  in  the 
early  days  he  had  been  a  disciple  of  this  cult  per 
force)  ;  he  was  a  thoroughgoing  epicure. 

Patty  was  delighted.  Warrington  guided  her 
about  the  rooms  on  a  tour  of  inspection.  He  point 
ed  out  all  the  curios  and  told  the  history  of  each. 
But  the  desk  was  the  article  which  interested  her 
most. 

"And  this  is  where  you  write  ?  Upon  this  desk 
138 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

plays  have  grown  up?  Won't  you  give  me  a  single 
sheet  of  manuscript  to  take  home  with  me?" 

"I  certainly  shall." 

He  pulled  out  a  drawer  and  found  some  old 
manuscript.  He  selected  a  sheet,  signed  it,  and 
gave  it  to  her. 

"I  am  rich !"  the  girl  exclaimed.  "Signed  man 
uscript  from  a  real  live  author !  I  suppose  that  you 
receive  tons  of  letters,  some  praising,  some  argu 
ing,  some  from  mere  autograph  fiends." 

"It's  a  part  of  the  day's  work."  His  face  bright 
ened.  He  searched  his  pockets.  "Here  is  one  out 
of  the  ordinary.  It  is  unsigned,  so  I  feel  no  qualms 
of  conscience  in  letting  you  read  it." 

Patty  took  the  envelope  with  suppressed  eager 
ness.  She  drew  out  the  letter  and  read  it  slowly. 

"Do  you  receive  many  like  that?"  she  asked, 
folding  the  letter  and  returning  it. 

"Very  few ;  that's  why  I  treasure  it.  I  should 
like  to  meet  the  writer;  but  that's  impossible.  I 
have  read  and  re-read  it  fifty  times." 

"Evidently  it  was  written  in  good  faith."  Patty 
was  not  very  enthusiastic. 

"There's  not  the  least  doubt  of  that.  I  am  glad 
of  one  thing :  I  can't  disillusion  her." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 
139 


"Oh,  this  young  woman  thinks  I  must  be  a 
paragon  of  virtues.  I'm  not ;  I'm  a  miserable  im 
postor.  She  takes  it  for  granted  that  I  am  good 
and  kind  and  wise." 

"Aren't  you  ?"  asked  Patty  gravely. 

"As  men  go.  I  always  try  to  be  kind;  some 
times  I  am  good,  and  sometimes  I  am  wise." 

"I'm  afraid  you  are  one  of  those  young  men 
who  try  to  be  bad  and  can't.  They  are  hopeless." 

Warrington  laughed. 

"But  I  am  superstitious  about  that  letter.  I've 
carried  it  in  my  pocket  for  weeks.  It's  a  kind  of 
mentor.  Whenever  some  fool  thing  comes  into 
my  head,  I  stop  and  think  of  the  letter." 

"That  is  good.  The  writer  hasn't  wasted  her 
time." 

"I  love  you !"  whispered  John. 

Miss  Challoner  smiled  into  his  eyes.  The  smile 
encouraged  him,  and  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

Ah,  if  it  were  not  for  those  gloves !    Why  did 

1  he  not  say  something  ?   She  was  positive  that  he 

had  them.    To  smile  and  laugh  and  talk ;  to  face 

the  altar,  knowing  that  he  possessed  those  hateful 

gloves !  To  pretend  to  deceive  when  she  knew  that 

he  was  not  deceived !   It  was  maddening.   It  was 

140 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

not  possible  that  Warrington  had  the  gloves;  he 
would  never  have  kept  them  all  this  while.  What 
meant  this  man  at  her  side?  What  was  he  going 
to  do  ?  She  recollected  a  play  in  which  there  was 
a  pair  of  gloves.  The  man  had  thrown  them  at 
the  woman's  feet,  and,  at  the  very  altar,  turned 
and  left  her.  But  she  knew  that  men  did  not  do 
such  things  in  life.  She  was  innocent  of  any 
wrong ;  this  knowledge  sustained  her. 

"A  honeymoon  in  Switzerland :  it  has  been  the 
dream  of  my  life."  This  time  he  drew  her  arm 
through  his  and  crossed  the  room  to  his  mother's 
side.  "Mother  mine,  we  shall  be  gone  only  three 
months ;  then  we  shall  come  home  to  stay." 

"I  shall  miss  you  so;  you  have  been  away  so 
much  that  I  am  hardly  acquainted  with  you." 

The  woman  who  was  to  become  her  daughter 
suddenly  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  the  chair, 

"Please  love  me,  too.  I  have  been  so  lonely  all 
my  life." 

"My  daughter!"  Mrs.  Bennington  laid  her 
hand  on  the  splendid  head. 

"I  shall  never  marry,"  said  Patty  decidedly. 

"What?  Young  lady,  don't  let  any  one  hear 
you  make  such  a  remark.  One  of  these  fine  days 
somebody  will  swoop  you  up  and  run  off  with  you. 
141 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

I  don't  know  but  that  I  could  play  the  part  fairly 
well."  Warrington  laughed. 

"Indeed !  You'd  have  a  time  of  it." 

"I  dare  say.  But  there's  the  breakfast  waiting." 

Toasts  and  good  wishes,  how  easy  they  are  to 
give! 

At  the  church  the  women  cried  a  little.  Women 
cry  when  they  are  happy,  they  cry  when  they  are 
not;  their  tears  keep  a  man  guessing  year  in  and 
year  out.  But  this  is  no  place  for  a  dissertation  on 
tears.  There's  time  enough  for  that. 

The  bride  and  groom  left  immediately  for  Bos 
ton,  from  which  city  they  were  to  sail  for  Europe 
the  following  day.  In  the  carriage  John  drew  his 
bride  close  to  his  heart. 

"Mine !"  he  said,  kissing  her.  "God  grant  that 
I  may  make  you  happy,  girl." 

"John,  you  are  the  finest  gentleman  in  the 
world!" 

His  hand  stole  into  his  coat  pocket  and  gently 
dropped  something  into  her  lap.  She  looked 
down  and  saw  through  her  tears  a  crumpled  pair 
of  white  kid  gloves.  Then  she  knew  what  man 
ner  of  man  was  this  at  her  side. 

"It  was  not  because  I  doubted  you,"  he  said 
softly :  "it  was  because  they  were  yours." 
142 


CHAPTER    VII 

Spring  came  round  again  in  Herculaneum. 
People  began  to  go  to  the  tailor  and  the  dress 
maker  and  the  hatter.  There  were  witty  editorials 
in  the  newspapers  on  house-cleaning  and  about 
the  man  who  had  the  courage  to  wear  the  first 
straw  hat.  The  season  (referring  to  the  winter 
festivities)  had  been  unusually  lively.  There  had 
been  two  charity  balls  by  rival  hospital  boards,  re 
ceptions,  amateur  dramatics,  dinners  and  dances, 
not  to  omit  the  announcement  of  several  engage 
ments. 

The  new  Bennington  mansion  had  its  house- 
warming  in  November.  The  reception,  followed 
by  a  dinner-dance  in  the  evening,  was,  according 
to  the  society  columns,  "one  of  the  social  events  of 
the  season.  The  handsomest  house  in  town  was  a 
bower  of  smilax  and  hothouse  roses."  Every 
body  went  to  the  reception,  for  everybody  was 
more  or  less  curious  to  meet  the  former  cele 
brated  actress.  The  society  reporters,  waiting  for 
their  cues,  were  rather  non-committal  in  their  de- 
143 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

scription  of  the  mistress.  There  was  reason.  They 
did  not  care,  at  this  early  stage  of  the  game,  to 
offend  the  leader  by  too  much  praise  of  a  new 
comer  who  had  yet  to  establish  herself.  Besides, 
they  realized  how  little  their  paragraphs  would 
mean  to  a  woman  whose  portrait  had  appeared  in 
nearly  all  the  illustrated  magazines  in  the  world. 
Thus,  the  half-heartedness  of  the  newspapers  was 
equally  due  to  self-consciousness.  Society  itself, 
however,  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  beautiful 
Mrs.  Bennington,  for  she  entered  with  zest  into 
all  society's  plans.  In  fact,  she  threatened  to  be 
come  very  popular.  The  younger  element  began 
to  call  her  Mrs.  Jack. 

Kate  was  in  her  element,  for  to  live  after  this 
fashion  was  the  one  ambition  that  had  survived 
all  seasons.  She  was  like  a  child  with  some  won 
derful  new  French  doll.  There  was  always  a 
crowd  of  young  married  people  about  her,  which 
is  a  healthy  sign.  She  and  Patty  became  insep 
arable  comrades.  They  shopped  together,  went  to 
the  matinees,  and  drove  and  rode  together. 

Everything  went  along  smoothly,  too  smoothly. 
Fate  never  permits  anything  like  this  to  prosper 
long. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  career  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
144 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Haldene  saw  her  position  menaced.  The  younger 
set  no  longer  consulted  her  as  formerly.  When, 
like  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene,  a  woman  has  noth 
ing  more  serious  to  live  for  than  to  organize  so 
cial  affairs,  the  slightest  defection  from  her  ranks 
is  viewed  in  the  light  of  a  catastrophe.  She  had 
called  on  Mrs.  Bennington  the  second,  armed  with 
all  those  subtle  cruelties  which  women  of  her 
caliber  know  so  well  how  to  handle.  And  behold ! 
she  met  a  fencer  who  quietly  buttoned  the  foils 
before  the  bout  began.  She  had  finally  departed 
with  smiles  on  her  lips  and  rage  in  her  heart.  This 
actress,  whom  she  had  thought  to  awe  with  the 
majesty  of  her  position  in  Herculaneum,  was  not 
awed  at  all.  It  was  disconcerting ;  it  was  humiliat 
ing.  She  had  condescended  to  tolerate  and  was 
tolerated  in  turn.  Katherine  adored  Patty,  and 
Patty  had  told  her  that  she  hated  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene.  Naturally  Katherine  assumed  the  de 
fensive  whenever  she  met  the  common  enemy. 

But  Mrs.  Haldene  could  wait.  She  had  waited 
before  this.  She  had  made  certain  prophecies,  and 
it  embittered  her  to  learn  that  so  far  none  of  these 
prophecies  had  come  true.  She  could  wait.  Some 
thing  was  destined  to  happen,  sooner  or  later. 
She  knew  human  nature  too  well  not  to  be  expec- 
145 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

tant.  To  Mrs.  Haldene  the  most  gratifying  phrase 
in  the  language  was :  "I  told  you  so !"  Warring- 
ton  had  disappointed  her,  too.  He  behaved  him 
self.  He  did  not  run  after  young  Mrs.  Benning- 
ton ;  he  never  called  there  alone ;  he  was  seen  mor  j 
frequently  at  the  old  Bennington  place.  The  truth 
is,  Patty  was  busy  reforming  the  wayward  drama 
tist,  and  Warrington  was  busy  watching  the  re 
sult.  There  were  those  who  nodded  and  looked 
wise  whenever  they  saw  the  two  together. 

Oh,  Herculaneum  was  a  city  to  be  desired,  so 
cially.  Everybody  was  on  his  or  her  best  behavior. 
It  was  only  from  among  the  poor  that  scandal 
gleaned  her  items  for  the  newspapers.  The  shoot 
ing  of  such  a  man  by  such  a  woman's  husband 
aroused  only  the  mildest  comment.  But  that  class 
of  people,  don't  you  know,  is  so  primeval.  To 
kill  a  man  from  jealousy !  It  was  ridiculous.  Why 
did  they  not  go  to  court,  like  civilized  human 
beings? 

Of  course  there  is  always  scandal  in  politics; 
everybody  understands  that  this  is  unavoidable. 
Another  franchise  had  slipped  out  of  the  Common 
Council  into  the  transit  company's  pocket,  and 
even  the  partizan  papers  mildly  belabored  the  al- 
dermanic  body.  The  Evening  Call,  however, 
146 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

slashed  the  ward  representatives  vigorously.  It 
wound  up  its  editorial  with  the  query:  "How 
much  longer  will  the  public  stand  this  sort  of 
thing?"  The  Call  was  the  only  independent  sheet 
in  town,  and  did  about  as  it  pleased. 

Warrington  found  himself  taking  more  than 
normal  interest  in  the  situation.  Occasionally,  on 
Monday  nights,  he  wandered  into  the  City  Hall 
and  listened  to  the  impassioned  speeches  of  the 
aldermen.  Many  a  tempestuous  scene  passed  un 
der  his  notice.  Ordinances  were  passed  or  blocked, 
pavement  deals  were  rushed  through  or  side 
tracked.  And  once,  when  the  gas  company  was 
menaced  with  dollar-gas,  the  city  pay-roll  was  held 
up  for  two  months  by  the  lighting  company's 
cohorts.  Only  Heaven  knows  how  much  longer  it 
might  have  been  held  back,  had  not  an  assembly 
man  come  to  the  mayor's  help  by  rushing  up  to 
the  capital  and  railroading  through  a  law  that 
required  only  a  two-thirds  vote. 

The  Democrats  had  remained  in  power  for  six 
years,  and  Herculaneum  was  essentially  a  Repub 
lican  city.  On  the  Democratic  side  was  McQuade, 
on  the  Republican  side  was  ex-Senator  Hender 
son.  These  men  were  bosses  of  no  ordinary  type, 
The  first  was  from  the  mass,  the  second  from  the 
147 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

class;  and  both  were  millionaires.  The  political 
arena  was  a  pastime  for  these  two  men ;  it  was  a 
huge  complex  game  of  chess  in  which  recently  the 
senator  had  been  worsted.  The  public  paid,  as  it 
invariably  does,  to  watch  this  game  on  the  check 
erboard  of  wards.  The  senator  had  been  unfor 
tunate  in  his  candidates.  He  had  tried  young  men 
and  old,  lawyers  and  merchants ;  but  he  had  failed 
to  nominate  a  man  who  was  popular  with  class 
and  mass. 

The  present  mayor  was  a  shrewd  Democrat 
who  understood  the  diplomacy  of  petty  politics. 
He  shook  the  grimy  hand  of  toil  in  preference  to 
the  gloved  hand  of  idleness.  He  was  thoroughly 
a  politician.  He  never  disregarded  public  opinion 
openly.  He  never  sailed  close  to  the  wind,  but 
spent  his  time  in  safe  tacks  to  whatever  harbor  he 
desired.  He  was  McQuadr's  man  just  so  long  as 
McQuade  made  the  business  worth  while.  He  had 
opened  up  many  new  streets,  abolished  needless 
nuisances,  and  these  concessions  gave  him  a 
strong  hold  on  the  independent  voter.  He  was 
a  king  over  frogs  which  had  changed  much  since 
yEsop's  time,  for  now  they  let  well  enough  alone. 

Nevertheless,  things  were  going  from  bad  to 
worse.  Three  terms  are  likely  to  cause  a  man  to 
148 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

grow  careless  or  indifferent,  and  Donnelly  was 
making  frequent  bad  breaks.  The  senator,  ever 
watchful,  believed  he  saw  a  chance  to  sweep  Mc- 
Quade  off  the  board. 

McQuade  had  an  able  lieutenant  in  Alderman 
Martin,  whom  the  sporting  fraternity  followed 
loyally.  Martin  owned  and  ran  the  most  dis 
reputable  hotel  in  the  city.  It  occupied  a  position 
of  unusual  prominence  on  one  of  the  principal 
business  streets.  There  was  a  saloon  and  a  cheap 
restaurant  on  the  ground  floor.  On  the  second 
floor  were  wine-rooms  and  a  notorious  gambling- 
den.  Above  this  was  the  hotel.  The  guests  stole 
in  at  midnight  and  stole  out  at  dawn. 

This  gambling-den  was  frequently  the  bone  of 
contention  between  energetic  ministers  of  the  gos 
pel  and  the  police  department.  Regularly  the 
police  swore  that  gambling  did  not  exist  in  town, 
and  regularly  the  ministers  went  on  a  still  hunt 
for  proofs.  Singularly  enough,  they  never  found 
any.  A  hint  from  headquarters,  and  the  den 
would  close  up  till  after  the  excitement  was  over. 
All  the  newspapers  understood  that  the  police 
lied ;  but  the  editors  were  either  afraid  or  indiffer 
ent  ;  and  the  farce  was  played  over  yearly  for  the 
benefit  of  the  ministerial  association. 
149 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

The  place  was  run  honestly  enough.  When  the 
stakes  are  small,  the  professional  gambler  does 
not  have  to  be  dishonest.  All  the  same,  this  kind 
of  gambler  is  the  most  despicable  of  men.  He 
lures  the  wage  of  the  poor;  clerks,  bookkeepers, 
traveling  salesmen,  laborers,  college  boys,  men 
who  drink  too  much  of  a  Saturday  night,  all  these 
come  to  the  net.  Nobody  ever  wins  anything ;  and 
if  perchance  one  does  make  a  small  winning,  it 
goes  quickly  over  the  bar.  Women  wait  and  won 
der  at  home ;  it  is  their  common  lot.  The  spirit  of 
the  gambler  is  in  us  all,  and  we  might  as  well  con 
fess  it  here  and  now.  It  is  in  the  corpuscles  :  some 
thing  for  nothing,  something  for  nothing ! 

Martin  was  a  power  in  the  Common  Coun 
cil.  He  could  block  or  put  through  any  measure. 
He  always  carried  a  roll  of  gold-bills  in  his  pock 
ets — for  what  purpose  no  one  had  the  temerity  to 
inquire.  His  following  was  large  and  turbulent; 
it  came  from  the  shops  and  the  factories  and  the 
streets.  In  his  ward  no  candidate  had  ever  de 
feated  him.  "Nice  people"  had  very  little  to  do 
with  Mr.  Martin;  the  laborer  who  was  honest 
had  little  to  do  with  him,  either.  He  was  a  pariah, 
but  a  very  formidable  one.  Yet,  no  one,  though 
many  accused  him,  caught  him  in  a  dishonest  deal. 
150 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

On  the  other  hand,  Senator  Henderson's  party 
had  the  cloak  of  respectability  on  its  shoulders. 
His  lieutenants  were  prominent  business  men  who 
went  into  politics  as  a  light  diversion,  young  men 
of  aristocratic  families  who  were  ambitious  to  go 
to  Albany  or  Washington,  and  lawyers.  The  sen 
ator  was  a  shrewd  politician,  with  an  unreadable 
face,  clean-shaven  but  for  a  stubby  mustache,  and 
keen  blue  eyes  that  saw  everything.  He  was  loyal 
to  his  party  and  above  dishonesty. 

This  was  the  political  situation  in  Herculaneum. 

One  May  evening  the  senator  called  up  War- 
rington.  He  was  told  that  Mr.  Warrington  was 
at  the  club.  The  senator  drove  to  the  club  forth 
with.  He  found  the  dramatist  in  the  reading- 
room,  and  greeted  him  pleasantly. 

"My  boy,  I  want  half  an  hour  of  your  time." 

"You  are  welcome  to  an  hour  of  it,  Senator," 
replied  Warrington,  curious  to  know  what  the 
senator  had  to  say  to  him. 

"Come  into  a  private  dining-room,  then."  Once 
seated  at  the  table,  the  senator  reached  over  and 
touched  Warrington  mysteriously  on  the  arm. 
"Young  man,  I  heard  you  speak  the  other  night  at 
the  Chamber  of  Commerce  banquet.  You're  a 
born  orator,  and  what  is  better  than  that,  you've 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

common  sense  and  humor.  How  would  you  like 
to  be  mayor  of  Herculaneum  next  fall?" 

"Mayor?"  gasped  Warrington. 

"Yes." 

"I'd  make  a  fine  mayor,"  with  forced  laughter, 
but  thinking  rapidly.  "Aren't  you  jollying  me, 
Senator?" 

"I'm  dead  in  earnest,  Warrington.  There  is  not 
another  available  man  in  sight.  By  available  I 
mean  a  man  who  can  pull  the  party  out  of  the  bog. 
There  are  a  hundred  I  could  nominate,  but  the 
nomination  would  be  as  far  as  they  could  go.  We 
want  a  man  who  is  fresh  and  new  to  the  people, 
so  far  as  politics  goes ;  a  man  who  can  not  be  in 
fluenced  by  money  or  political  emoluments.  There 
are  thousands  of  voters  who  are  discontented,  but 
they'd  prefer  to  vote  for  Donnelly  again  rather 
than  to  vote  for  some  one  they  know  would  be  no 
better.  You  are  known  the  world  over.  A  good 
many  people  would  never  have  known  there  was 
such  a  place  as  Herculaneum  but  for  you.  It  is 
the  home  of  the  distinguished  playwright." 

"But  I  know  practically  nothing  about  political 
machinery,"  Warrington  protested. 

"You  can  leave  the  machinery  to  me,"  said  the 
senator  wisely.  "I'll  set  the  wheels  going.  It  will 
152 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

be  as  easy  as  sliding  down  hill.  I'll  give  you  my 
word,  if  you  land  in  the  City  Hall,  to  send  you  to 
Washington  with  the  next  Congress.  Will  you 
accept  the  nomination,  in  case  I  swing  it  around 
to  you  in  September?  It's  a  big  thing.  All  you 
literary  boys  are  breaking  into  politics.  This  is 
your  chance." 

"I'll  take  the  night  to  think  it  over,"  said  War- 
rington.  He  was  vastly  flattered,  but  he  was  none 
the  less  cautious  and  non-committal. 

"Take  a  week,  my  boy ;  take  a  week.  Another 
thing.  You  are  intimate  with  young  Bennington. 
He's  a  hard-headed  chap  and  doesn't  countenance 
politics  in  his  shops.  The  two  of  you  ought  to 
bring  the  hands  to  their  senses.  If  we  can  line  up 
the  Bennington  steel-mills,  others  will  fall  in. 
Bennington  owns  the  shops,  but  our  friend  Mc- 
Quade  owns  the  men  who  work  there.  Take  a 
week  to  think  it  over ;  I  can  rely  on  your  absolute 
secrecy." 

"I  shall  be  silent  for  half  a  dozen  reasons," 
Warrington  replied.  "But  I  shan't  keep  you  wait 
ing  a  week.  Call  me  up  by  'phone  to-morrow  at 
any  time  between  five  and  six.  I  shall  say  yes  or 
no,  direct." 

"I  like  to  hear  a  man  talk  like  that." 
153 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"I  can't  get  the  idea  into  my  head  yet.  I  never 
expected  to  meddle  with  politics  in  this  town." 

"We'll  do  the  meddling  for  you.  Even  if  you 
accept,  we  shall  require  silence  till  the  convention. 
It  will  be  a  bomb  in  the  enemy's  camp.  You'll 
come  around  to  the  idea.  Between  five  and  six, 
then?" 

"I  shall  have  your  answer  ready.  Good  night." 

The  senator  took  himself  off,  while  Warring- 
ton  ordered  a  bottle  of  beer  and  drank  it  thought 
fully.  Mayor!  It  would  be  a  huge  joke  indeed  to 
come  back  to  Herculaneum  to  rule  it.  He  chuckled 
all  the  way  home  that  night;  but  when  his  head 
struck  the  pillow  he  saw  the  serious  side  of  the 
affair.  He  recalled  the  old  days  when  they  sneered 
at  him  for  selling  vegetables ;  and  here  they  were, 
coming  to  him  with  the  mayoralty.  It  was  mighty 
gratifying.  And  there  was  the  promise  of  Wash 
ington.  But  he  knew  the  world :  political  prom 
ises  and  pie-crusts.  What  would  the  aunt  say? 
What  would  Patty  say  ?  Somehow,  he  was  always 
thinking  of  Patty.  He  had  not  thought  as  yet  to 
make  any  analysis  of  his  regard  for  Patty.  He 
held  her  in  the  light  of  an  agreeable  comrade, 
nothing  more  than  that.  Would  she  be  pleased  to 
see  him  mayor  of  Herculaneum?  Bah!  He 
154 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

couldn't  sleep.  He  got  out  of  bed,  found  a  pipe 
and  lighted  it,  and  sat  in  the  rocker  by  the  win 
dow.  Jove,  hearing  him  moving  about  the  room, 
woke  up  and  came  trotting  in  to  inquire. 

"Ha,  old  boy,  what  do  you  think  ?" 

Jove  laid  his  head  on  his  master's  knees. 

"They  want  to  make  a  mayor  out  of  me." 

Jove  signified  his  approval. 

"They  have  forgiven  us  our  daily  vegetables. 
But  shall  I?  Will  it  be  worth  while?  Well,  we'll 
take  a  ride  into  the  hills  in  the  morning,  and  we'll 
think  it  all  out.  Mayor  of  Herculaneum ;  sounds 
good,  doesn't  it  ?  Nothing  like  success,  Jove." 

Warrington  smoked  till  the  fire  in  his  pipe  died. 
He  turned  in,  and  this  time  he  won  sleep. 

Early  the  next  morning  he  was  off  on  his  horse, 
and  he  did  not  return  till  noon.  But  he  had  his 
answer. 

At  three  that  afternoon  he  had  callers.  Patty 
and  Kate  had  just  run  over  to  see  how  the  new 
play  was  getting  on.  Warrington  confessed  that 
he  was  doing  only  desultory  work,  but  promised 
to  read  the  scenario  to  them  when  it  was  done. 

"You  are  becoming  lazy,"  said  Kate 
ingly. 

"No;  only  a  country  gentleman." 
155 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Patty,  did  you  hear  that?  He  calls  Hercula- 
neum  a  country  village." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort.  One  may  live  in  a  city 
and  be  a  countryman  still." 

"Mr.  Warrington  probably  misses  New  York," 
said  Patty. 

"Not  the  veriest  particle,"  promptly.  Certainly 
Patty  was  growing  more  charming  every  day. 

The  Angora  cat,  with  feline  caution,  peeped 
into  the  room.  Patty,  who  loved  cats,  made  a  dash 
for  the  fluffy  animal,  which  turned  tail  and  bolted 
for  the  kitchen,  Patty  a  close  second. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  marriage  Kate  and 
Warrington  were  alone  together.  He  gazed  at 
her,  mildly  speculative. 

"Well,  what  do  you  see  ?"  she  asked. 

"You  are  certainly  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  in  the  world,"  he  declared,  sighing. 

"You  say  'one  of?"  frowning.  "There  was  a 
time  when  it  was  not  general ;  you  used  the  defi 
nite  article." 

"I  know  it." 

"Then  there  must  be  somebody  else,"  quickly. 

"I'm  not  a  marrying  man,"  he  said  evasively. 

"Is  it  Patty,  Dick?  Oh,  if  it  were  only  Patty!" 

"I'm  not  good  enough  for  Patty,  Kate.  The 
156 


Lord  knows,  though,  that  I  wish  I  were.  She  em 
barrasses  me  at  times  with  her  implicit  faith  in 
my  goodness." 

"Ah,  Richard,  what  a  terrible  past  yours  was !" 
mockingly.  "Nonsense !"  briskly.  "You  are  guilty 
of  nothing  but  innocuous  villainies.  If  there  were 
fairies  I  should  ask  one  to  make  you  fall  violently 
in  love  with  Patty." 

"No  fairies  need  apply,"  ambiguously.  "But 
you ;  you  seem  to  be  happy." 

"There  can  not  be  a  happier  woman  in  the 
world.  Let  me  confess.  The  confession  may  hurt 
your  vanity.  I  love  my  husband  better  than  I 
dreamed  I  could  love.  He  is  so  just,  so  tender  and 
strong.  And  isn't  he  handsome?  I  am  madly 
jealous  of  every  woman  that  comes  near  him. 
And  once  upon  a  time  I  believed  that  I  was  in  love 
with  Mr.  Richard."  There  was  no  coquetry  in 
this  frank  statement. 

"Any  one  can  see  that  you  are  happy." 

"I  want  every  one  to  see  it.  I  want  to  tell  every 
body,  too.  You  have  no  idea  how  strong  he  is, 
Dick.  Yesterday  I  was  in  the  shops  with  him.  A 
rail  was  in  the  way ;  the  men  about  did  not  see  it ; 
or  refused  to  see  it.  John  stooped,  picked  it  up 
with  his  bare  hands,  and  dropped  it  to  one  side. 
157 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

There  are  but  two  men  in  the  shops  who  can  do 
that.  But  I  have  a  horror  of  those  great  bars  of 
twisting  white  iron.  They  terrify  me.  I  do  not 
understand,  but  the  men  are  always  sullen  when  I 
am  there.  John  says  it's  my  imagination." 

"It  probably  is.  Perhaps  the  begrimed  faces 
have  something  to  do  with  it." 

"I  can  read  the  human  countenance  too  well," 
she  said.  "Is  it  because  I  have  been  on  the  stage  ? 
Have  these  men  a  base  opinion  of  me?" 

"Impossible!" 

"And  they  seem  to  dislike  John,  too." 

"John  can  take  care  of  himself.  He'll  wait  a 
long  while,  but  when  he  moves  forward  nothing" 
can  stop  him.  Don't  you  ever  miss  the  glare  of  the 
lights?"  he  asked,  his  endeavor  being  to  interest 
her  in  something  foreign  to  the  shops. 

"Dick,  I  have  almost  forgotten  that  I  ever  acted. 
You  will  remember  that  I  refused  to  assist  in  the 
amateur  theatricals  last  winter.  Act?  I  hate  the 
word.  It  suggests  the  puppet,  the  living  in  other 
people's  worlds,  parrot-wise,  in  imitation." 

"Come,  come,  Kate ;  it's  the  greatest  gift  of  all, 
and  you  know  it.  Think!  The  power  to  make 
people  laugh  and  cry,  to  make  either  happiness  or 
misery  perfectly  real !" 

158 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Oh,  there  was  pleasure  in  it  at  times,"  she  ad 
mitted  reluctantly.  "Do  you  remember  my  gloves, 
Dick?  John  had  them." 

"He  knew  you  were  in  my  rooms  that  night?" 

"Yes.  I  told  him  the  simple  truth,  and  he  be 
lieved  me.  How  could  I  help  loving  a  man  as 
loyal  as  that?" 

"It  is  fine.  But  Jack  was  always  a  thorough 
man.  I  don't  blame  you  for  loving  him.  I  call 
him  all  sorts  of  names  to  Patty,  and  it  is  fun  to 
watch  her  eyes  flash." 

Kate  gave  him  a  curious  smile. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Nothing." 

"You  smiled." 

"I  had  a  happy  thought." 

"Probably  about  that  house-broken  John  of 
yours." 

"Who's  calling  John  house-broken?"  Patty 
stood  in  the  doorway,  the  Angora  struggling  un 
der  her  arm. 

"Well,   isn't  he   house-broken?"   asked   War-f 
rington  with  gentle  malice.     "Gentle  and  war 
ranted  to  stand  ?" 

Patty,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  permitted  him 
t"   believe  that  he  succeeded  in  teasing  her. 
159 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"Kate,  let  us  be  going.  I  can  not  listen  to  Mr. 
Warrington's  remarks  regarding  my  brother. 
He  treats  John  as  if  he  were  a  horse." 

"Just  as  you  say,  dear.     We  shall  punish  Mr. 
fWarrington  by  not  making  informal  calls  in  the 
future." 

"Wait  till  I  get  my  hat,"  cried  Warrington, 
"and  I'll  walk  over  to  the  house  with  you." 

"If  you  do  that,"  said  Patty,  "we  shall  be  com 
pelled  to  ask  you  to  remain  to  dinner." 

"Oh,  I  should  refuse.  I've  a  telephone  engage 
ment  between  five  and  six." 

"But  we  never  serve  dinner  till  seven,"  replied 
Patty,  buttoning  her  coat  austerely. 

Kate  laughed  merrily. 

"If  you  will  ask  me  over  to  dinner,"  said  War 
rington,  "I'll  tell  you  a  secret,  a  real  dark  politi 
cal  secret,  one  that  I've  promised  not  to  tell  to  a 
soul." 

The  two  women  stopped  abruptly.  The  cast 
was  irresistible,  and  they  had  to  rise  to  it. 

Yet  Patty  murmured :  "How  like  a  woman  he 
is!" 

"It  simply  shows  what  high  regard  I  have  for 
your  discretion.     It  is  a  secret  some  men  would 
pay  a  comfortable  fortune  to  learn." 
160 


"Will  you  please  come  and  dine  with  us  this 
evening?"  asked  Patty. 

"I  shall  be  very  happy." 

"And  now,  the  secret,"  said  Mrs.  Jack. 

"Between  five  and  six  I  expect  a  call  on  the 
'phone  from  Senator  Henderson." 

"Senator  Henderson !"  exclaimed  the  women  in 
unison. 

"I  shall  say  but  a  single  word.   It  will  be  yes." 

"But  the  secret!  Mercy  alive,  you  are  keep 
ing  us  waiting!" 

Warrington  glanced  around  with  mock  cau 
tion.  He  went  mysteriously  to  the  portieres 
and  peered  into  the  hall;  he  repeated  this  per 
formance  at  the  dining-room  door,  then  turned,  a 
finger  upon  his  lips. 

"Senator  Henderson  is  looking  for  a  candidate 
for  mayor  this  fall.  Mind,  not  a  word  to  a  soul, 
not  even  to  John,"  this  warning  addressed  prin 
cipally  to  Mrs.  Jack. 

"The  Honorable  Richard  Warrington,"  said 
Patty,  musing.  She  rolled  the  words  on  her 
tongue  as  if  testing  the  sound  of  them. 

"That's  it,"  laughed  Warrington.  "The  Hon 
orable  Richard  Warrington! — sounds  like  Lord 
Mayor  of  London !" 

161 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Every  Eden  has  its  serpent,  sooner  pr  later. 
Thus,  having  futilely  tried  the  usual  gates  by 
which  he  enters  Eden  to  destroy  it,  this  particu 
lar  serpent  found  a  breach  in  the  gate  of  politics. 


162 


CHAPTER  VIII 

McQuade  and  Martin  entered  a  cafe  popular 
for  its  noon  lunches.  It  was  hot  weather  in 
July,  and  both  were  mopping  their  bald  foreheads, 
their  faces  and  necks.  The  white  bulldog  trotted 
along  behind,  his  tongue  lolling  out  of  his  mouth 
and  his  eyes  heavy.  The  two  men  sat  down  in  a 
corner  under  an  electric  fan ;  the  dog  crawled  un 
der  the  table,  grateful  for  the  cold  stone  tiling. 

"What  do  you  know  about  this  fellow  War- 
rington  ?"  asked  McQuade,  tossing  his  hat  on  one 
pf  the  unoccupied  chairs. 

"The  fellow  who  writes  plays?" 

"Yes.    What  do  you  know  about  him  ?" 

"Why,  he  used  to  peddle  vegetables  and  now 
he  owns  a  swell  place  on  Williams  Street." 

"Gamble?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  I  never  go  into  Pete's 
myself.  It  wouldn't  be  good  business.  But  they 
tell  me  Warrington  used  to  drop  in  once  in  a 
while,  when  he  was  a  reporter,  and  choke  his 
salary  to  death  over  the  roulette  table." 

"Doesn't  gamble  now  ?" 
163 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Not  in  any  of  the  joints  around  town." 

"Drink?" 

"Oh,  I  guess  he  boozes  a  little;  but  he's  hard- 
headed  and  knows  how  to  handle  the  stuff." 

"Women? — Roast  beef,  boiled  potatoes  and 
musty  ale  for  two." 

"Actresses. — Say,  make  mine  a  beer. — A  gay 
buck  in  New  York,  I  understand.  Used  to  chase 
around  after  the  Challoner  woman  who  married 
Bennington." 

"Nothing  here  in  town?" 

"Haven't  paid  any  attention  to  him.  I  guess 
he's  straight  enough  these  days." 

"Tip  Pete  off  to-day.  The  police  will  make  a 
raid  Saturday  night.  The  ministers  have  been 
shouting  again,  and  two  or  three  losers  have 
whined." 

"All  right.  But  what's  all  this  about  War- 
rington?"  asked  Martin,  whose  curiosity  was 
aroused. 

"I'll  tell  you  later."  The  waiter  returned  with 
the  platters  of  food,  and  McQuade  ate  without 
further  comment  or  question. 

Martin  ate  his  meat  in   silence  also,  but  he 
was  busy  wondering.     Warrington?     What  had 
interested  the  boss  in  that  swell  ?  Humph ! 
164 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

These  men  ate  quickly  and  digested  slowly. 
McQuade  took  out  two  fat  black  cigars  and 
passed  one  to  Martin,  who  tore  off  the  end  with 
his  teeth. 

"I  want  to  find  out  all  there  is  to  know  about 
Warrington.  I  can't  explain  why  just  now;  too 
many  around." 

"Set  Bolles  after  him.  Bolles  used  to  be  with  a 
private  detective  bureau.  If  there's  anything  to 
learn,  he'll  learn  it.  There  he  is  now.  Hey, 
waiter,  ask  that  gentleman  looking  for  a  vacant 
table  to  come  over.  Hello,  Bolles !" 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Martin.  Hot  day,  Mr. 
McQuade." 

"Sit  down,"  said  McQuade,  with  a  nod  of  invi 
tation  toward  the  remaining  vacant  chair.  "Cigar 
or  a  drink?" 

"Bring  me  a  little  whisky — no,  make  it  an  old- 
fashioned  cocktail.  That'll  be  about  right." 

"Mr.  McQuade  has  a  job  for  you,  Bolles,  if 
you're  willing  to  undertake  it." 

"I've  got  some  time  on  my  hands  just  now," 
replied  Bolles.  "Contract  work  ?" 

"After  a  fashion,"  said  McQuade  grimly.    "Eat 
your  dinner  and  we'll  go  up  stairs  to  my  office. 
iiiWhat  I  have  to  say  can't  be  said  here." 

165 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"All  right,  Mr.  McQuade.  If  it's  dagos,  I'll 
have  plenty  in  hand  in  November." 

"I  shall  want  you  to  go  to  New  York,"  said 
McQuade. 

"New  York  or  San  Francisco,  so  long  as  some 
one  foots  the  bills." 

"I'll  foot  'em,"  agreed  McQuade.  "Hustle 
your  dinner.  We'll  wait  for  you  at  the  bar." 

Bolles  ordered.  A  job  for  McQuade  that  took 
him  to  New  York  meant  money,  money  and  a 
good  time.  There  were  no  more  contracts  till 
September,  so  the  junket  to  New  York  wouldn't 
interfere  with  his  regular  work.  He  had  sublet 
his  Italians.  He  was  free.  A  few  minutes  later 
he  joined  McQuade,  and  the  trio  went  up  stairs 
in  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke.  McQuade  nodded 
to  the  typewriter,  who  rose  and  left  the  private 
office.  The  three  men  sat  down,  in  what  might 
be  described  as  a  one-two-three  attitude :  domina 
tion,  tacit  acceptance  of  this  domination,  and  ser 
vility. 

"Do  you  know  Richard  Warrington,  the  play- 
writer?" 

"That  snob?  Yes,  I  know  who  he  is,  and  I'd 
like  to  punch  his  head  for  him,  too." 

McQuade  smiled.  This  manifest  rancor  on 
166 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Belles'  part  would  make  things  easier  than  he 
thought. 

"Well,  listen.  I've  just  been  tipped  that  big 
things  are  going  to  happen  this  fall.  That  fool 
Donnelly  has  queered  himself,  and  is  making  a 
muddle  of  everything  he  touches.  Senator  Hen 
derson  is  a  shrewd  man,  but  he  wasn't  shrewd 
enough  this  time.  He  should  have  conducted  his 
Jittle  conspiracy  in  his  own  home  and  not  at  a 
club  where  servants  often  find  profit  in  selling 
what  they  hear.  Henderson  is  going  to  put  War- 
rington  up  for  mayor." 

"The  hell  he  is!"  said  Bolles. 

Martin's  jaw  dropped,  and  the  cigar  ashes 
tumbled  down  his  shirt  bosom. 

"It's  no  joke,"  went  on  McQuade.  "If  he  is 
nominated,  he'll  win.  The  people  are  wanting  a 
change.  If  the  Henderson  people  get  into  the 
City  Hall,  I  stand  to  lose  a  fortune  on  contracts. 
You  both  know  what  that  means.  Warrington 
must  never  get  a  chance  to  accept." 

Bolles  looked  at  Martin.  McQuade  saw  the 
look,  and,  interpreting  it,  laughed. 

"These  are  no  dime-novel  days.    We  don't  kill 
men  to  get  'em  out  of  the  way.    We  take  a  look 
into  their  past  and  use  it  as  a  club." 
167 


"I  begin  to  see,"  said  Martin.  "Warrington 
must  be  side-tracked  before  the  convention.  Good. 
That'll  be  simple." 

"Not  very,"  McQuade  admitted.  "It's  going 
to  be  a  devilish  hard  job.  You,  Bolles,  pack  up 
and  go  to  New  York.  I  want  some  information 
regarding  this  young  fellow's  past  in  New  York. 
It's  up  to  you  to  get  it.  No  faking,  mind  you; 
good  substantial  evidence  that  can  be  backed  up 
by  affidavits.  Get  the  idea?  Five  hundred  and 
expenses,  if  you  succeed ;  your  expenses  anyhow. 
Five  hundred  is  a  lot  of  money  these  days.  But 
if  you  go  on  a  bat,  I'll  drop  you  like  a  hot  brick, 
for  good  and  all.  Think  it  over.  Pack  up  to 
night,  if  you  want  to.  Here's  a  hundred  to  start 
with.  Remember  this,  now,  there  must  be  a 
woman." 

"A  woman  ?" 

"Yes.  A  man  has  no  past,  if  there  isn't  a  wom 
an  in  it." 

"I  can  land  that  five  hundred,"  Bolles  declared 
confidently.  "I  can  find  the  woman.  I'll  write 
you  every  other  day." 

"Well,  then,  that's  all.     Good  luck.     No  booz 
ing  while  you're  on  the  job.     Afterward  I  don't 
care  what  you  do.    By-by. 
i6S 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Bolles  took  his  dismissal  smilingly.  Five  hun 
dred.  It  was  easy. 

"If  it's  possible,  he'll  do  it,"  said  Martin.  "But 
what's  your  campaign  ?" 

"Donnelly  must  remain  another  term.  After 
that,  oblivion.  There'll  be  bids  this  fall.  If  Hen 
derson's  man  wins,  there'll  be  new  aldermen. 
These  bids  of  mine  must  go  through  and  gas  must 
be  kept  at  a  dollar-fifty.  I'm  a  rich  man,  but  at 
present  I'm  up  to  my  neck  in  southern  contracts 
that  aren't  paying  ten  cents  on  the  dollar.  Her- 
culaneum's  got  to  foot  the  bill." 

"How'd  you  find  out  about  Henderson's  coup  ?" 

"One  of  the  waiters  at  his  club  said  he  had 
some  information.  I  gave  him  ten  dollars  for 
something  I'd  have  given  ten  hundred  for  just  as 
quickly.  If  Henderson  had  sprung  Warrington 
in  September,  we'd  have  been  swamped.  Now  we 
have  a  good  chance  to  hang  on." 

"Force  him  to  back  down  and  withdraw  ?" 

McQuade  nodded.- 

"It's  simply  got  to  be  done.  I  didn't  give  Hen 
derson  credit  for  so  clever  a  move  as  this.  A  new 
man,  famous  and  wealthy,  under  no  obligations 
to  his  party ;  the  voters  would  follow  him  just  for 
the  novelty  of  the  thing.  Besides,  there  are  other 
169 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

reasons,  but  I'm  keeping  them  to  myself.  How 
about  that  pavement  deal  in  John  Street  ?" 

John  Street  possessed  but  three  or  four  houses. 
The  paving  would  be  a  ten-thousand-dollar  job. 
As  a  witty  political  speaker  once  said,  they  paved 
Herculaneum  in  the  concrete  and  in  the  abstract. 

"It  will  go  through  Monday  night,  smooth  as 
butter." 

"Canvassed  the  boys  ?" 

"More  than  three-fourths  vote.  Sure." 

"I'm  depending  upon  you." 

"Will  you  turn  down  Donnelly  at  the  conven 
tion?" 

"I  tell  you  he's  got  to  run  again.  I'll  bring 
him  to  order,  after  a  little  heart-to-heart  talk. 
He's  the  only  man  in  sight." 

"Why  not  play  the  same  game  as  Henderson  ?" 

"I've  thought  it  all  out.  There's  no  one  but 
Donnelly.  Pick  up  anything  you  can  about  War- 
rington." 

"All  right.  By  the  way,  the  boys  want  to  know 
if  you  think  we  can  pull  off  those  ten-round  bouts 
this  winter." 

"I'm  going  down  to  the  capital  to  see." 

Martin  telephoned  for  his  team,  and  twenty 
minutes  later  he  was  driving  countryward.  Mc- 
170 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Quade  dictated  a  few  letters,  one  of  which  he  di 
rected  to  be  sent  by  messenger.  Then  he  left  the 
office  and  called  upon  the  editor  of  the  Times. 
This  conference  lasted  an  hour.  McQuade  was 
chief  owner  of  the  Times. 

Warrington  was  greatly  surprised  when,  at 
three-thirty,  a  message  was  brought  to  him  re 
questing  him  briefly  and  politely  to  do  Mr.  Mc 
Quade  the  honor  to  call  on  him  between  four  and 
five  that  afternoon.  He  had  met  McQuade  at  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce  dinner.  The  introduction 
had  been  most  formal.  What  the  deuce  did  Mc 
Quade  wish  to  see  him  about  ?  Should  he  go  ?  A 
natural  aversion  to  the  man  said  no;  but  policy 
urged  him  as  well  as  curiosity.  He  went  to  the 
telephone  and  called  up  McQuade's  office.  Mr. 
McQuade  was  not  in,  but  would  return  at  four. 
Ah !  It  was  the  typewriter  who  spoke.  Would  she 
kindly  notify  Mr.  McQuade  on  his  return  that 
Mr.  Warrington  would  be  at  his  office  at  four- 
thirty  ?  She  would.  Thanks. 

Warrington  smoked  uneasily.  He  had  no  de 
sire  to  meet  McQuade.  Their  ways  were  widely 
separated  and  reached  nothing  in  common.  But 
he  readily  recognized  the  fact  that  McQuade  was 
171 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

not  a  man  such  as  one  might  heedlessly  antag 
onize.  What  could  the  politician  want  of  the  lit 
erary  man  ?  McQuade  dabbled  in  racing  horses ; 
perhaps  he  had  a  horse  to  sell.  In  that  event, 
they  would  meet  on  common  ground.  But  his 
belief  in  this  possibility  was  only  half-hearted. 
He  rilled  his  pockets  with  cigars,  whistled  for  the 
dog,  and  departed.  Both  of  the  Bennington 
houses  were  closed;  the  two  families  were  up 
north  in  the  woods. 

Promptly  at  four-thirty  Warrington  and  his 
dog  entered  the  elevator  of  the  McQuade  Build 
ing  and  were  dislodged  on  the  third  floor.  They 
went  along  the  dim  corridor,  scrutinizing  doors, 
each  hunting  for  one  of  his  kind.  Jove  couldn't 
read,  but  he  could  smell.  Finally  Warrington 
came  to  a  stand.  Upon  the  glass  panel  of  the  door 
he  read : 


DANIEL  McQuADE  &  Co. 
GENERAL  CONTRACTORS 


He  did  not  knock.     He  opened  the  door  and 

walked  in.    It  is  a  sign  of  weakness  for  a  man  to 

knock  on  the  door  of  a  business  office,  unless  it  is 

marked  private.     Nevertheless,  the  dingy  glass 

172 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

had  known  the  knock  of  many  knuckles.  A  girl 
was  hammering  on  the  typewriting  machine.  She 
ceased  only  when  she  completed  the  page.  She 
looked  up.  Her  expression,  on  seeing  who  the 
visitor  was,  changed  instantly.  It  was  not  often 
that  a  man  like  this  one  entered  the  office  of 
Daniel  McQuade  and  Company,  General  Con 
tractors. 

"I  have  an  appointment  with  Mr.  McQuade," 
said  Warrington  pleasantly ;  "would  you  mind  an 
nouncing  me  ?" 

"Just  a  moment,"  answered  the  girl,  rising  and 
entering  the  private  office.  She  returned  at  once. 
"Mr.  McQuade  will  see  you." 

Warrington  walked  quietly  into  the  lion's  den. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Warrington,"  said  Mc 
Quade,  pointing  toward  a  chair.  He  did  not  offer 
his  hand;  something  told  him  not  to  make  that 
mistake. 

From  under  the  desk  McQuade' s  dog  emerged, 
stiff  and  bristling.  On  his  side,  Jove  stood 
squarely  on  his  legs,  head  on,  as  they  say,  his  lips 
writhing  and  quivering  with  rage.  Warrington 
touched  the  chair  that  had  been  offered  him, 
Jove  begged.  But  the  master  was  obdurate.  Jove 
jumped  up,  but  turned  quickly.  The  white  dog 
173 


HALF.    A    ROGUE 

stopped.  He  recognized  that  he  was  at  a  com 
plete  disadvantage. 

McQuade  watched  these  proceedings  with  an 
amused  twinkle.  It  was  a  clever  manoeuver.  So 
far  as  he  was  concerned,  a  good  dog  fight  would 
not  have  been  to  his  distaste. 

"It  doesn't  hurt  the  brutes  to  fight  once  in 
a  while.  But,  of  course,"  he  added,  "your  dog  is 
old." 

"Nothing  is  old  till  it  is  useless." 

"An  epigram  from  one  of  your  plays  ?" 

"No ;  but  it  sounds  good  enough  to  use.  Jove 
has  strong  teeth,  however,  and  he  comes  from  a 
fighting  family.  But  for  my  part,  I  had  much 
rather  see  two  men  pummel  each  other." 

"So  would  I,  for  that  matter."  McQuade 
pushed  the  match-box  toward  Warrington,  but 
Warrington  drew  out  his  own  and  struck  a  light. 
McQuade  shrugged. 

"Mr.  McQuade,  I  am  interested  to  learn  what 
is  back  of  your  note.  Horses  ?" 

"No;  not  horses." 

McQuade  viewed  the  young  man  through  half- 
closed  eyes.  The  contractor  was  a  big  hulk  of  a 
man,  physically  as  strong  as  a  bull,  with  reddish 
hair,  small  twinkling  eyes,  a  puffy  nose  mottled 
174 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

with  veins,  thin  lips  shaded  by  a  bristling-  red 
mustache,  and  a  heavy  jaw.  The  red  fell  of  hair 
on  his  hands  reminded  Warrington  of  a  sow's 
back.  Everything  about  McQuade  suggested 
strength  and  tensity  pf  purpose.  He  had  begun 
work  on  a  canal-boat.  He  had  carried  shovel  and 
pick.  From  boss  on  a  railway  section  job  he  had 
become  a  brakeman.  He  took  a  turn  at  lumber 
ing,  bought  a  tract  of  chestnuts  and  made  a  good 
penny  in  railroad  ties.  He  saved  every  dollar 
above  his  expenses.  He  bought  a  small  interest 
in  a  contracting  firm,  and  presently  he  became  its 
head.  There  was  ebb  and  tide  to  his  fortunes,  but 
he  hung  on.  A  lighting  contract  made  him  a  rich 
man.  Then  he  drifted  into  politics;  and  now,  at 
the  age  of  fifty,  he  was  a  power  in  the  state.  The 
one  phase  of  sentiment  in  the  man  was  the  long 
ing  to  possess  all  those  obstacles  that  had  beset  his 
path  in  the  days  of  his  struggles.  He  bought  the 
canal-boat  and  converted  it  into  a  house-boat;  he 
broke  the  man  who  had  refused  him  a  job  at  the 
start ;  he  bought  the  block,  the  sidewalk  of  which 
he  had  swept;  every  man  who  stood  in  his  way 
he  removed  this  way  or  that.  He  was  dishonest, 
but  his  dishonesty  was  of  a  Napoleonic  order. 
He  was  uneducated,  but  he  possessed  that  exact 
175 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

knowledge  of  mankind  that  makes  leaders;  and 
his  shrewdness  was  the  result  of  caution  and  sus 
picion.  But  like  all  men  of  his  breed,  he  hated 
with  peculiar  venom  the  well-born;  he  loved  to 
grapple  with  them,  to  wrest  their  idleness  from 
them,  to  compel  them  to  work  for  a  living,  to  hu 
miliate  them.  The  fiber  in  McQuade  was  coarse ; 
he  possessed  neither  generosity  nor  magnanimity ; 
the  very  men  who  feared  him  held  him  in  secret 
contempt. 

"No,  Mr.  Warrington,  I  haven't  any  horses  for 
sale  to-day,"  he  began.  "Not  very  long  ago  you 
met  Senator  Henderson  at  your  club.  He  offered 
you  the  nomination  for  mayor  this  fall,  and  you 
accepted  it." 

Warrington  could  not  repress  a  start  of  sur 
prise.  He  had  not  quite  expected  this.  He  was 
annoyed. 

"That  is  true.  What  mystifies  me,"  he  supple 
mented,  "is  how  this  knowledge  came  to  your 
ears." 

"I  generally  hear  what's  going  on.  My  object 
in  asking  you  to  call  is  to  talk  over  the  matter  on 
a  friendly  basis." 

"I  can  not  see  what  good  that  will  do.     Po 
litically  we  have  nothing  in  common." 
176 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"Politically  or  socially.  But  the  point  is  this. 
What  have  you  done  that  you  should  merit  this 
honor?  I'll  talk  frankly.  What  have  you  done 
toward  the  building  up  of  your  city  ?  What  have 
you  done  toward  its  progress  in  manufacturing 
and  building?  You  have  done  nothing  but  buy 
a  house  on  the  fashionable  street  and  pay  the 
taxes." 

"You  might  add  that  I  once  peddled  vege 
tables,"  said  Warrington. 

It  was  McQuade's  turn  to  be  surprised.  From 
what  he  had  observed  of  fashionable  people,  espe 
cially  the  new-rich,  they  endeavored  to  submerge 
altogether  the  evidences  of  past  manual  and  menial 
labor. 

"Then  you  are  not  ashamed  of  the  fact  that  you 
sold  vegetables  ?" 

"In  truth,  I'm  rather  proud  of  it.  It  was  the 
first  step  in  the  fight.  And  I  tell  you  honestly, 
Mr.  McQuade,  that  I  have  fought  every  inch  of 
the  way.  And  I  shall  continue  to  fight,  when 
there's  anything  worth  fighting  for.  I'm  not  a 
manufacturer  or  a  builder,  but  I  am  none  the  less 
eligible  for  public  office.  What  little  money  I 
have  was  made  honestly,  every  penny  of  it.  It 
was  not  built  on  political  robbery  and  the  failures 
177 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

of  others.  But  let  us  come  to  the  point.  You 
have  something  to  say." 

"Yes.  I  have.  And  it  is  this:  I  don't  pro 
pose  to  have  you  meddle  with  the  politics  of  this 
city.  I  hope  we  can  come  to  a  peaceful  under 
standing.  I  don't  want  to  war  against  you." 

"Mr.  McQuade,  you  talk  like  a  man  out  of  his 
senses.  Who's  going  to  prevent  me  from  accept 
ing  the  nomination  ?" 

"I  am,"  answered  McQuade,  bringing  a  fist 
down  on  his  desk. 

The  dogs  growled.  They  seemed  to  realize  that 
war  of  some  kind  was  in  the  air. 

"How?"  asked  Warrington.  The  man  was  a 
fool! 

"You  will  go  to  Senator  Henderson  and  tell 
him  that  you  have  reconsidered." 

Warrington  laughed.  "I  believed  I  knew  all 
phases,  but  this  one  surpasses  any  I  ever  heard  of. 
You  have  the  nerve  to  ask  me,  of  the  opposition 
party,  to  refuse  the  nomination  for  mayor  ?" 

"I  have." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me?" 

"Not  of  you,  my  lad,"  McQuade  answered  sar 
donically,  spreading  out  his  great  hands.  "Do  I 
look  like  a  man  afraid  of  anything?  But  the 
178 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

thought  of  a  stranger  becoming  mayor  of  Hercu- 
laneum  rather  frightens  me.  Let  us  have  peace, 
Mr.  Warrington." 

"I  ask  nothing  better." 

"Withdraw." 

"I  never  withdraw.  I  am  not  afraid  of  any 
thing.  I  even  promise  to  be  good-natured  enough 
to  look  upon  this  meeting  as  a  colossal  joke." 
Warrington's  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  relighted 
it  coolly.  "If  the  nomination  is  offered  me,  I 
shall  accept  it;  and  once  having  accepted  it,  I'll 
fight,  but  honorably  and  in  the  open.  Look  here, 
McQuade,  don't  be  a  fool.  You've  something 
against  me  personally.  What  is  it?  If  I  recol 
lect,  I  ran  across  you  once  or  twice  when  I  was  a 
newspaper  man." 

McQuade's  eyes  narrowed  again. 

"Personally,  you  are  nothing  to  me,"  he  replied ; 
"politically,  you  are  a  meddler,  and  you  are  in  my 
way." 

"Oh,  I  am  in  your  way?  That  is  to  say,  if  I 
am  elected,  there'll  be  too  much  honesty  in  the 
City  Hall  to  suit  your  plans?  I  can  readily  be 
lieve  that.  If  you  can  convince  me  that  I  ought 
not  to  run  for  mayor,  do  so.  I  can  accept  any 
reasonable  argument.  But  bluster  will  do  no 
179 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

good.  For  a  man  of  your  accredited  ability,  you 
are  making  a  poor  move,  even  a  fatal  one." 

"Will  you  withdraw  ?" 

"Emphatically  no !" 

"All  right.  Whatever  comes  your  way  after 
this,  don't  blame  me.  I  have  given  you  a  fair 
warning." 

"You  have  threatened." 

"I  can  act  also.  And  you  can  put  this  in 
your  pipe,  Mr.  Warrington,  that  before  October 
comes  round,  when  the  Republican  convention 
meets,  you  will  withdraw  your  name  quickly 
enough.  This  is  not  a  threat.  It's  a  warning. 
That's  all.  I'm  sorry  you  can't  see  the  matter 
from  my  standpoint." 

"Come,  boy,"  said  Warrington  to  his  dog. 
"You  had  better  keep  your  animal  under  the 
table." 

McQuade  did  not  move  or  answer.  So  War 
rington  grasped  Jove  by  the  collar  and  led  him 
out  of  the  private  office.  McQuade  heard  the 
dramatist  whistle  on  the  way  to  the  elevator. 

"So  he'll  fight,  eh?"  growled  McQuade. 
"Well,  I'll  break  him,  or  my  name's  not  Mc 
Quade.  The  damned  meddling  upstart,  with  his 
plays  and  fine  women!  You're  a  hell  of  a  dog, 
180 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

you  are!  Why  the  devil  didn't  you  kill  his  pup 
for  him?" 

McQuade  sent  a  kick  at  the  dog,  who  dodged  it 
successfully,  trotted  out  to  the  typewriter  and 
crawled  under  the  girl's  skirts. 

Warrington  went  home,  thoroughly  angry  with 
himself.  To  have  bandied  words  and  threats  with 
a  man  like  McQuade !  He  had  lowered  himself  to 
the  man's  level.  But  there  were  times  when  he 
could  not  control  his  tongue.  Education  and 
time  had  not  tamed  him  any.  Withdraw?  It 
would  have  to  be  something  more  tangible  than 
threats. 

"Richard,  you  are  not  eating  anything,"  said 
his  aunt  at  dinner  that  evening. 

"I'm  not  hungry,  Aunty.  It's  been  one  of  those 
days  when  a  man  gets  up  wrong." 

"I'm  sorry.  Doesn't  the  play  go  along 
smoothly?" 

"Not  as  smoothly  as  I  should  like." 

"There  was  a  long-distance  call  for  you  this 
afternoon.  The  Benningtons  want  you  to  come 
up  at  once  instead  of  next  week." 

Warrington  brightened  perceptibly.  He  went 
to  work,  but  his  heart  wasn't  in  it.  The  inter 
view  with  McQuade  insisted  upon  recurring. 
181 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Why  hadn't  he  walked  out  without  any  comment 
whatever?  Silence  would  have  crushed  Mc- 
Quade.  He  knew  that  McQuade  could  not  back 
up  this  threat ;  it  was  only  a  threat.  Bah !  Once 
more  he  flung  himself  into  his  work. 
Half  an  hour  later  the  door-bell  rang. 


182 


CHAPTER  IX 

Character  is  a  word  from  which  have  descend 
ed  two  meanings  diametrically  opposed  to  each 
other.  We  say  a  man  has  a  character,  or  we  say 
he  is  one.  The  first  signifies  respect;  the  second, 
a  tolerant  contempt.  There  exists  in  all  small 
communities,  such  as  villages,  towns,  and  cities 
of  the  third  class,  what  is  known  as  a  character. 
In  the  cities  he  is  found  loafing  in  hotel  lobbies 
or  in  the  corridors  of  the  City  Hall ;  in  the  hamlet 
he  is  usually  the  orator  of  the  post-office  or  the 
corner  grocery.  Invariably  his  wife  takes  in 
washing,  and  once  in  a  while  he  secures  for  her 
an  extra  order.  If  he  has  any  children,  they  live 
in  the  streets.  He  wears  a  collar,  but  seldom  adds 
a  tie.  He  prides  himself  on  being  the  friend  of 
the  laboring  man,  and  a  necktie  implies  the  wor 
ship  of  the  golden  calf.  He  never  denies  him 
self  a  social  glass.  He  never  buys,  but  he  always 
manages  to  be  introduced  in  time.  After  the  first 
drink  he  calls  his  new  friend  by  his  surname ;  after 
the  second  drink  it  is  "Arthur"  or  "John"  or 
183 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Henry,"  as  the  case  may  be;  then  it  dwindles 
into  "Art"  or  "Jack"  or  "Hank."  No  one  ever 
objects  to  this  progressive  familiarity.  The  stran 
ger  finds  the  character  rather  amusing.  The  char 
acter  is  usually  a  harmless  parasite,  and  his  one 
ambition  is  to  get  a  political  job  such  as  entails 
no  work.  He  is  always  pulling  wires,  as  they 
say;  but  those  at  the  other  end  are  not  sensi 
tive  to  the  touch.  On  dull  days  he  loiters  around 
the  police  court  and  looks  mysterious.  Cub  re 
porters  at  first  glance  believe  him  to  be  a  detective 
in  disguise. 

Herculaneum  had  its  character.  He  was  a 
pompous  little  man  to  whom  the  inelegant  ap 
plied  the  term  of  runt.  He  never  could  have 
passed  the  army  examination,  for  he  had  no  in 
step.  He  walked  like  a  duck,  flat-footed,  minus 
the  waddle.  He  was  pop-eyed,  and  the  fumes  of 
strong  drink  had  loosened  the  tear-ducts  so  that 
his  eyes  swam  in  a  perennial  mist  of  tears.  His 
wife  still  called  him  William,  but  down  town  he 
was  Bill.  He  knew  everybody  in  town,  and  every 
body  in  town  knew  him.  There  was  a  time  when 
he  had  been  on  intimate  terms  with  so  distin 
guished  a  person  as  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene.  He 
will  tell  you  to  this  day  how  he  was  wont  to  dan- 
184 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

die  her  on  his  knee.  Bill  was  one  of  those  indi 
viduals  of  whom  it  is  said :  "He  means  well."  In 
other  words,  he  was  a  do-nothing,  a  ne'er-do-well. 
He  had  been  comparatively  rich  once,  but  he  had 
meant  well  with  his  money.  One  grand  splurge, 
and  it  was  all  over.  Herculaneum  still  recollects 
that  splurge.  When  in  his  cups,  Bill  was  always 
referring  to  those  gorgeous  days.  Afterward, 
Bill  and  his  family  lived  from  hand  to  mouth. 
Occasionally,  at  Christmas,  some  of  his  old 
friends  who  felt  sorry  for  him  sent  him  a  purse. 
Did  Bill  purchase  turkey  and  coal  and  potatoes? 
No,  indeed.  He  bought  useless  French  toys  for 
the  children,  who  went  hungry.  Another  time, 
when  heartless  winter  returned  and  the  price  of 
coal  went  up,  a  church  social  was  arranged  for 
Bill's  benefit.  It  netted  him  nearly  a  hundred  dol 
lars.  But  Bill  didn't  pay  his  landlord  and  grocer ; 
not  he!  He  came  down  town  the  following  day 
with  a  shiny  plug-hat  and  a  gold-headed  cane. 

Bill  was  a  first-class  genealogist.  He  could  tell 
you  the  history  of  every  leading  family  in  town. 
It  took  Bill  to  expose  the  new-rich;  he  did  it 
handsomely.  The  way  these  breakfast  million 
aires  lorded  and  landaued  it  highly  amused  him. 
Who  were  they,  anyhow?  Coal-heavers,  hod- 
185 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

carriers,  stock-speculators,  riffraff,  who  pos 
sessed  an  ounce  of  brains  and  a  pound  of  luck. 
Why,  they  didn't  even  know  how  to  spend  their 
money  when  they  got  it.  But  what  could  be  ex 
pected  of  people  who  put  iron  dogs  and  wooden 
deers  on  their  front  lawns  ?  But  the  Benningtons, 
the  Haldenes,  and  the  Winterfields,  and  the  Park 
ers, — they  had  something  to  brag  about.  They 
were  Bunker  Killers,  they  were;  they  had  always 
had  money  and  social  position.  As  for  the  Mil- 
lens,  and  the  Deckers,  and  the  McQuades — pah! 
Bill  had  a  wonderful  memory;  he  never  forgot 
those  who  laughed  at  him  and  those  who  nodded 
kindly.  He  was  shiftless  and  lazy,  but  he  had 
a  code  of  honor.  Bill  could  have  blackmailed 
many  a  careless  man  of  prominence,  had  he  been 
so  minded.  But  a  man  who  had  once  dined  a 
governor  of  the  state  could  do  no  wrong.  His 
main  fault  was  that  he  had  neglected  to  wean 
his  former  greatness ;  he  still  nursed  it.  Thus,  it 
was  beneath  his  dignity  to  accept  a  position  as  a 
clerk  in  a  store  or  shop.  The  fact  that  his  pris 
tine  glory  was  somewhat  dimmed  to  the  eyes  of 
his  fellow  citizens  in  no  wise  disturbed  Bill. 
Sometimes,  when  he  was  inclined  to  let  loose  the 
flood-gates  of  memory,  his  friends  would  slip  a 
186 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

quarter  into  his  palm  and  bid  him  get  a  drink, 
this  being  the  easiest  method  of  getting  rid  of 
him. 

Bill  marched  into  the  Warrington  place  jaun 
tily.  He  wore  a  tie.  Jove  ran  out  and  sniffed  the 
frayed  hems  of  his  trousers.  But  like  all  men  of 
his  ilk,  he  possessed  the  gift  of  making  friends 
with  dogs.  He  patted  Jove's  broad  head,  spoke 
to  him,  and  the  dog  wagged  what  there  was  left 
of  his  tail.  Bill  proceeded  to  the  front  door  and 
resolutely  rang  the  bell.  The  door  opened  pres 
ently. 

"Is  Richard  in?"  Bill  asked.  He  had  had  only 
two  drinks  that  evening. 

"Mr.  Warrington  is  in,"  answered  the  valet, 
with  chilling  dignity.  "What  is  your  business  ?" 

"Mine!"  thundered  Bill,  who  had  a  democratic 
contempt  for  a  gentleman's  gentleman.  "I  have 
important  business  to  transact  with  your  master. 
Take  this  card  in  to  him.  He'll  see  me." 

The  valet  looked  at  the  greasy  card.  The  name 
was  written  in  ink ;  the  card  was  of  the  kind  one 
finds  in  hotels  for  the  convenience  of  the  guests. 

"I  will  take  the  card  to  Mr.  Warrington,"  the 
valet  promised  reluctantly.  There  was,  however, 
187 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

a  barely  perceptible  grin  struggling  at  the  corners 
of  his  mouth.  He  was  not  wholly  devoid  of  the 
sense  of  humor,  as  a  gentleman's  gentleman 
should  at  all  times  be. 

"William  Osborne?  What  the  deuce  does  he 
want  here  ?"  asked  Warrington  impatiently. 

"He  said  his  business  was  important,  sir.  If  it 
is  half  as  important  as  he  acts — " 

"No  comments,  please.  Show  Mr.  Osborne 
in." 

Warrington  turned  all  his  mail  face-downward. 
He  knew  Bill  of  aforetime,  in  the  old  newspaper 
days.  Bill  had  marvelously  keen  eyes,  for  all 
that  they  were  watery.  The  valet  ushered  him 
into  the  study.  He  wore  his  usual  blase  expres 
sion.  He  sat  down  and  drew  up  his  chair  to  the 
desk. 

"Well,  Mr.  Osborne,  what's  on  your  mind  to 
night?"  Warrington  leaned  back. 

"The  truth  is,  Richard,"  began  William,  "I 
found  this  letter  on  the  pavement  this  afternoon. 
Guess  you'd  been  down  to  the  hotel  this  after 
noon,  and  dropped  it.  I  found  it  out  in  front. 
There  was  no  envelope,  so  I  couldn't  help  read 
ing  it." 

Warrington  seized  the  letter  eagerly.  It  was 
188 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

the  only  letter  of  its  kind  ir  the  world.  It  was 
enchanted. 

"Mr.  Osborne,  you  ve  done  me  a  real  service. 
I  would  not  take  a  s  nail  fortune  for  this  letter. 
I  don't  recollect  ho\v  I  came  to  lose  it.  Must 
have  taken  it  out  and  dropped  it  accidentally. 
Thanks." 

"Don't  mention  it,  my  bo^ ."  Very  few  called 
him  Mr.  Osborne. 

"It  is  worth  a  good  deal  to  me.  Would  you  be 
offended  if  I  gave  you  ten  as  a  reward?" 

"I'd  feel  hurt,  Richard,  but  not  offended,"  a 
twinkle  in  the  watery  eyes. 

Warrington  laughed,  drew  out  his  wallet  and 
handed  William  a  crisp,  crackly  bark-note.  It 
went,  neatly  creased,  into  William's  sagging  vest- 
pocket. 

"Have  a  cigarette  ?"  asked  Warrington. 

"Richard,  there's  one  thing  I  never  did,  and 
that's  smoke  one  of  those  coffin-nails.  Whisky 
and  tobacco  are  all  right,  but  I  draw  the  line  at 
cigarettes." 

Warrington  passed  him  a  cigar.  William  bit 
off  the  end  and  lighted  it.  He  sniffed  with  evi- 
'dent  relish. 

"Seems  impossible,  Richard,  that  only  a  few 
189 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

years  ago  you  were  a  reporter  at  the  police  sta 
tion.  But  I  always  said  that  you'd  get  there  some 
day.  You  saw  the  dramatic  side  of  the  simplest 
case  I  knew  your  father.  He  was  one  of  the 
best  farmers  in  the  county.  But  he  didn't  know 
how  tc  invest  his  savings.  He  ought  to  have  left 
you  rich." 

"But  he  didn't.  After  all,  it's  a  fine  thing  to 
make  for  the  good  things  in  life  and  win  them 
yourself." 

"That's  true.  You're  a  different  breed  from 
some  of  these  people  who  are  your  neighbors. 
We're  all  mighty  proud  of  you,  here  in  Hercu- 
laneum.  What  you  want  to  do  is  to  get  into  poli 
tics."  Here  Bill  winked  mysteriously.  "You've 
money  and  influence,  and  that's  what  counts." 

"I'm  seriously  thinking  the  thing  over,"  re 
turned  Warrington,  not  quite  understanding  the 
wink. 

"Everything's  on  the  bum  in  town ;  it  wants  a 
clean  bill.  McQuade  must  go.  The  man  never 
keeps  a  promise.  Told  me  in  the  presence  of  wit 
nesses,  last  election,  that  he'd  give  me  a  job  on 
the  new  police  board;  and  yet  after  election  he 
put  in  one  of  those  whipper-snappers  who  know 
nothing.  Of  course,  you've  been  in  town  long 
190 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

enough  to  know  that  Donnelly  is  simply   Mc- 
Quade's  creature.    I  never  had  any  luck." 

"Oh,  it  may  change  by  and  by."  Warrington, 
at  that  moment,  felt  genuinely  sorry  for  the  out 
cast. 

Bill  twirled  his  hat.  "You've  never  laughed  at 
me,  Richard ;  you've  always  treated  me  like  a  gen 
tleman,  which  I  was  once.  I  didn't  mail  that  let 
ter  because  I  wanted  to  see  if  you  had  changed 
any.  If  you  had  become  a  snob,  why,  you  could 
fight  your  blamed  battles  yourself;  no  help  from 
me.  But  you're  just  the  same.  I've  brought 
something  that'll  be  of  more  use  to  you  than  that 
letter,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

"What?"  asked  Warrington  skeptically. 

Suddenly  Bill  leaned  forward,  shading  his 
voice  with  his  hand.  "I  was  in  Hanley's  for  a 
glass  of  beer  this  noon.  I  sat  in  a  dark  place. 
The  table  next  to  me  was  occupied  by  Martin, 
McQuade,  and  a  fellow  named  Bolles." 

"Bolles?" 

"You've  been  away  so  long  you  haven't  heard 
of  him.  He  handles  the  dagos  during  election. 
Well,  McQuade  was  asking  all  sorts  of  questions 
about  you.  Asked  if  you  gambled,  or  drank,  or 
ran  around  after  women." 
191 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington  no  longer  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 
His  body  assumed  an  alert  angle. 

"They  all  went  up  to  McQuade's  office.  The 
typewriter  is  a  niece  of  mine.  McQuade  has 
heard  that  the  senator  is  going  to  spring  your 
name  at  the  caucus.  But  that's  a  small  matter. 
McQuade  is  going  to  do  you  some  way  or  other." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  he  sees  that  his  goose  is  cooked  if  you 
run.  He's  determined  that  he  won't  let  you." 

Warrington  laughed ;  there  was  a  note  of  battle 
in  his  laughter.  "Go  on,"  he  said. 

"Nobody  knew  anything  about  your  habits. 
So  McQuade  has  sent  Bolles  to  New  York.  He 
used  to  be  a  private  detective.  He's  gone  to  New 
York  to  look  up  your  past  there.  I  know  Bolles ; 
he'll  stop  at  nothing.  McQuade,  however,  was 
wise  enough  to  warn  him  not  to  fake,  but  to  get 
real  facts." 

This  time  Warrington's  laughter  was  genuine. 

"He's  welcome  to  all  he  can  find." 

"But  this  isn't  all.  I  know  a  printer  on  the 
Times.  To-morrow  the  whole  story  about  your 
accepting  the  senator's  offer  will  come  out.  They 
hope  the  senator  will  be  forced  to  change  his 
plans.  They  think  the  public  will  lose  interest  in 
192 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

your  campaign.  Surprise  is  what  the  public 
needs.  I'll  tell  you  something  else.  Morris,  who 
died  last  week,  had  just  sold  put  his  interest  in 
the  Telegraph  to  McQuade.  This  means  that 
McQuade  has  the  controlling  interest  in  every 
newspaper  in  town.  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing 
before;  five  newspapers,  Democratic  and  Repub 
lican,  owned  by  a  Democratic  boss." 

Warrington  smoked  thoughtfully.  This  man 
McQuade  was  something  out  of  the  ordinary. 
And  he  had  defied  him. 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  Osborne.  If 
I  win  out,  on  my  word  of  honor,  I'll  do  something 
for  you." 

"You  aren't  afraid  of  McQuade  ?"  anxiously. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Osborne,  I  am  not  afraid  of  the 
Old  Nick  himself.  I'll  give  this  man  McQuade 
the  biggest  fight  he  has  ever  had.  Bolles  will 
have  his  pains  for  nothing.  Any  scandal  he  can 
rake  up  about  my  past  will  be  pure  blackmail; 
and  I  know  how  to  deal  with  that  breed." 

"McQuade  will  try  something  else,  then.  He's 
sworn  to  stop  you.  I'm  glad  you  aren't  afraid  of 
him." 

"I  can't  thank  you  enough." 

"I  wander  about  town  a  good  deal;  nobody 
193 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

pays  much  attention  to  me;  so  lots  of  things  fall 
under  my  notice.  I'll  let  you  know  what  I  hear. 
You'll  find  all  the  decent  people  on  your  side,  sur 
prise  or  no  surprise.  They're  tired  of  McQuade 
and  Donnelly.  Some  of  these  paving  deals  smell. 
Well,  I'm  keeping  you  from  your  work."  Bill 
rose. 

"Help  yourself  to  these  cigars,"  said  Warring- 
ton  gratefully,  passing  the  box. 

Bill  took  three. 

"Good  night,  Richard." 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Osborne.  If  by  any  good 
luck  I  become  mayor  of  Herculaneum,  I'll  not 
forget  your  service  to-night." 

"That's  all  that's  necessary  for  me;"  and  Bill 
bowed  himself  out.  He  layed  his  course  for  his 
familiar  haunts. 

Warrington  turned  to  his  work  again.  But 
the  news  he  had  just  received  disturbed  all  con 
nected  thought,  so  he  put  the  manuscript  away. 
So  the  first  gun  had  been  fired!  They  had  sent 
a  man  to  hunt  up  his  past  in  New  York.  He 
looked  back,  searching  this  corner  and  that,  but 
he  could  not  recall  anything  that  would  serve  Mc- 
Quade's  purpose.  No  man  is  totally  free  from 
folly.  True,  there  was  a  time  when  he  drank, 
194 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

but  he  had  stopped  that  idiocy  nearly  two  years 
before.  This  could  not  be  tallied  against  him 
with  effect.  And,  thank  God,  there  had  been  no 
women.  His  gambling  had  been  of  the  innocuous 
kind.  Well,  let  them  hunt;  much  good  it  would 
do  them. 

He  picked  up  the  letter  which  Osborne  had  so 
fortunately  come  upon.  He  was  often  amused  at 
the  fascination  it  held  for  him.  He  would  never 
meet  the  writer,,  and  yet  not  a  day  passed  that  he 
did  not  strive  to  conjure  up  an  imaginative  like 
ness.  And  he  had  nearly  lost  it.  The  creases 
were  beginning  to  show.  He  studied  it  thorough 
ly.  He  held  it  toward  the  light.  Ah,  here  was 
something  that  had  hitherto  escaped  his  notice. 
It  was  a  peculiar  water-mark.  He  examined  the 
folds.  The  sheet  had  not  been  folded  originally, 
letter-wise,  but  had  been  flat,  as  if  torn  from  a 
tablet.  He  scrutinized  the  edges  and  found  signs 
of  mucilage.  Here  was  something,  but  it  led  him 
to  no  solution.  The  post-office  mark  had  been 
made  in  New  York.  To  trace  a  letter  in  New 
York  would  be  as  impracticable  as  subtracting 
gold  from  sea-water.  It  was  a  tantalizing  mys 
tery,  and  it  bothered  him  more  than  he  liked  to 
confess.  He  put  the  letter  in  his  wallet,  and  went 
195 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

into  the  sewing-room,  where  his  aunt  was  knit 
ting.  The  dear  old  lady  smiled  at  him. 

"Aunty,  I've  got  a  secret  to  tell  you." 

"What  is  it,  Richard?" 

"I'm  going  to  run  for  mayor." 

The  old  lady  dropped  her  work  and  held  up  her 
hands  in  horror. 

"You  are  fooling,  Richard !" 

"I  am  very  serious,  Aunty." 

"But  politicians  are  such  scamps,  Richard." 

"Somebody's  got  to  reform  them." 

"But  they'll  reform  you  into  one  of  their  kind. 
You  don't  mean  it !" 

"Yes,  I  do.  I've  promised,  and  I  can't  back 
down  now." 

"No  good  will  come  of  it,"  said  the  old  lady 
prophetically,  reaching  down  for  her  work.  "But 
if  you  are  determined,  I  suppose  it's  no  use  for 
me  to  talk.  What  will  the  Benningtons  say  ?" 

"They  rather  approve  of  the  idea.  I'm  going 
up  there  early  to-morrow.  I'll  be  up  before  you're 
down.  Good  night."  He  lightly  kissed  the  wrin 
kled  face. 

"Have  a  good  time,  Richard;  and  God  bless 
my  boy." 

He  paused  on  the  threshold  and  came  back. 
196 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Why,  he  did  not  know.  But  having  come  back, 
he  kissed  her  once  again,  his  hands  on  her  cheeks. 
There  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"You're  so  kind  and  good  to  an  old  woman, 
Richard." 

"Pshaw!  there's  nobody  your  equal  in  all  the 
world.  Good  night;"  and  he  stepped  out  into  the 
hall. 

The  next  morning  he  left  town  for  the  Ben- 
ningtons'  bungalow  in  the  Adirondacks.  He  car 
ried  his  fishing-rods,  for  Patty  had  told  him  that 
their  lake  was  alive  with  black  bass.  Warrington 
was  an  ardent  angler.  Rain  might  deluge  him, 
the  sun  scorch,  but  he  would  sit  in  a  boat  all  day 
for  a  possible  strike.  He  arrived  at  two  in  the 
afternoon,  and  found  John,  Kate  and  Patty  at  the 
village  station.  A  buckboard  took  them  into  the 
heart  of  the  forest,  and  the  penetrating,  resinous 
perfumes  tingled  Warrington's  nostrils.  He  had 
been  in  the  woods  in  years  gone  by ;  not  a  tree  or 
a  shrub  that  he  did  not  know.  It  was  nearly  a 
two  hours'  drive  to  the  lake,  which  was  circled 
by  lordly  mountains. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful?"  asked  Patty,  with  a  kind 
of  proprietary  pride. 

"It  is  as  fine  as  anything  in  the  Alps,"  War- 
197 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

rington  admitted.  "Shall  we  go  a-fishing  in  the 
morning  ?" 

"If  you  can  get  up  early  enough." 

"Trust  me !"  enthusiastically. 

"I  netted  one  this  morning  that  weighed  three 
pounds." 

"Fish  grow  more  rapidly  out  of  water  than  in," 
railingly. 

"John,  didn't  that  bass  weigh  three  pounds?" 
Patty  appealed. 

"It  weighed  three  and  a  half." 

"I  apologize,"  said  Warrington  humbly. 

"How's  the  politician?"  whispered  Kate,  ea 
gerly. 

"About  to  find  himself  in  the  heart  of  a  great 
scandal.  The  enemy  has  located  us,  and  this 
afternoon  the  Times  is  to  come  out  with  a  broad 
side.  I  haven't  the  least  idea  what  it  will  say,  nor 
care." 

"That's  the  proper  way  to  talk,"  replied  Kate 
approvingly.  "We  climbed  that  bald  mountain 
yesterday.  Patty  took  some  beautiful  photo 
graphs." 

"The  tip  of  your  nose  is  beginning  to  peel," 
said  Warrington  irrelevantly. 

"It's  horrid  of  you  to  mention  it.  I'm  not  used 
198 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

to  the  sun,  but  I  love  it.  Patty  is  teaching  me 
how  to  bait  a  hook." 

"I'd  like  to  see  a  photograph  of  that,"  War- 
rington  cried.  "Say,  John,  is  there  any  way  of 
getting  to-night's  newspapers  up  here?" 

"Nothing  till  to-morrow  morning.  The  boat 
leaves  the  mail  at  night.  But  what's  this  talk 
about  politics  ?"  John  demanded. 

Warrington  looked  at  Patty  and  Kate  in  honest 
amazement. 

"Do  you  two  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  asked,  "that 
you  have  really  kept  the  news  from  John  ?" 

"You  told  us  not  to  tell,"  said  Kate  reproach 
fully. 

"Well,  I  see  that  I  shall  never  get  any  nearer 
the  truth  about  women.  I  thought  sure  they'd 
tell  you,  Jack,  that  I'm  going  to  run  for  mayor 
this  fall." 

"No !" 

"Truth.  And  it's  going  to  be  the  fight  of  my 
life.  I  accepted  in  the  spirit  of  fun,  but  I  am 
dead  in  earnest  now.  Whichever  way  it  goes,  it 
will  be  a  good  fight.  And  you  may  lay  to  that, 
my  lad,  as  our  friend  Long  John  Silver  used  to 
say." 

He  said  nothing,  however,  of  his  interview 
199 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

with  McQuade.  That  was  one  of  the  things  he 
thought  best  to  keep  to  himself. 

"I'll  harangue  the  boys  in  the  shops,"  volun 
teered  John,  "though  there's  a  spirit  of  unrest  I 
don't  like.  I've  no  doubt  that  before  long  I  shall 
have  a  fight  on  my  hands.  But  I  shall  know  ex 
actly  what  to  do,"  grimly.  "But  hang  business ! 
,  These  two  weeks  are  going  to  be  totally  outside 
the  circle  of  business.  I  hope  you'll  win,  Dick. 
We'll  burn  all  the  stray  barrels  for  you  on  election 
night." 

"There'll  be  plenty  of  them  burning.  But  I 
shall  be  nervous  till  I  see  the  Times" 

"You'll  have  it  in  the  morning." 

Warrington  sighed.  Half  an  hour  later  the 
bungalow  came  into  view. 

The  elder  Bennington  knew  the  value  of  hygi 
enic  living.  He  kept  his  children  out  of  doors, 
summer  and  winter.  He  taught  them  how  to  ride, 
to  hunt,  to  fish ;  he  was  their  partner  in  all  out-of- 
door  games;  he  made  sport  interesting  and  im 
parted  to  them  his  own  zest  and  vitality.  So  they 
grew  up  strong  and  healthy.  He  left  their  mental 
instruction  to  the  mother,  knowing  full  well  that 
she  would  do  as  much  on  her  side  as  he  had  done 
on  his.  Only  one  law  did  he  lay  down :  the  chil- 
200 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

dren  should  go  to  public  schools  till  the  time  for 
higher  education  arrived.  Then  they  might 
choose  whatever  seat  of  learning  they  desired. 
He  had  the  sound  belief  that  children  sent  to  pri 
vate  schools  rarely  become  useful  citizens. 

The  rosal  glow  of  dawn  tipped  the  mountains, 
and  a  russet  haze  lay  on  the  still  bosom  of  the 
lake.  Warrington  made  a  successful  cast  not  far 
from  the  lily-pods.  Zing !  went  the  reel.  But  by 
the  pressure  of  his  thumb  he  brought  the  runa 
way  to  a  sudden  halt.  The  tip  of  the  rod  threat 
ened  to  break!  Hooked!  Patty  swung  round 
the  canoe,  which  action  gave  the  angler  freer 
play.  Ah,  wasn't  that  beautiful !  Two  feet  out  of 
the  water !  Here  he  comes,  but  not  more  swiftly 
than  the  reel  can  take  him.  Off  he  goes  again — 
take  care  for  the  unexpected  slack.  Another  leap, 
like  a  bronze  flame,  and  then  a  dash  for  the  shal 
low  bottom.  He  fought  gallantly  for  his  life  and 
freedom.  Patty  reached  for  the  net.  Inch  by 
inch  Warrington  drew  him  in.  Twice  he  leaped 
over  the  net,  but  Patty  was  an  old  hand.  The 
third  effort  landed  him. 

"Two  pounds,"  said  Patty.  "Plenty  for  break 
fast  now." 

201 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Tell  you  what,  this  is  sport.  How  many  have 
we?" 

"Seven  in  half  an  hour."  Patty  began  using 
her  paddle. 

"Finest  sport  in  the  world !"  Warrington  set 
tled  down  on  the  cushion  and  leisurely  watched 
the  brown  arms  of  his  guide. 

"You're  a  good  fisherman.  And  I  like  to  see  a 
good  fisherman  get  excited.  John  is  like  a  statue 
when  he  gets  a  strike ;  he  reels  them  in  like  a  ma 
chine.  He  becomes  angry  if  any  one  talks.  But 
it's  fun  to  watch  Kate.  She  nearly  falls  out  of 
the  boat,  and  screams  when  the  bass  leaps.  Isn't 
it  beautiful?" 

"It  is  a  kind  of  Eden.  But  I'm  so  restless.  I 
have  to  be  wandering  from  place  to  place.  If  I 
owned  your  bungalow,  I  should  sell  it  the  second 
year.  All  the  charm  would  go  the  firsv:  season. 
God  has  made  so  many  beautiful  places  in  this 
world  for  man  that  man  is  the  only  ungrateful 
creature  in  it.  What's  that  smoke  in  the  dis 
tance?" 

"That's  the  mail-boat,  with  your  newspaper. 
It  will  be  two  hours  yet  before  it  reaches  our  dock. 
It  has  to  zigzag  to  and  fro  across  the  lake.  I'm 
hungry." 

202 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"So  am  I.    Let  me  take  the  paddle." 
The  exchange  was  made,  and  he  sent  the  canoe 
over  the  water  rapidly.     Patty  eyed  him  with 
frank  admiration. 

"Is  there  anything  you  can't  do  well  ?" 
"A  good  many  things,"  he  acknowledged. 
"I  should  like  to  know  what  they  are." 
Neither    spoke    again    till    the    canoe    glided 
around  the  dock  and  a  landing  was  made.    War- 
rington   strung  the  fish,    and   together   he   and 
Patty  went  toward  the  kitchen.     At  seven-thirty 
the  family  sat  down  to  a  breakfast  of  fried  bass, 
and  Patty  told  how  the  catch  had  been  made. 
"He's  a  better  fisherman  than  you,  John." 
"Just   as   you   say,    Patty.      I   care   not   who 
catches  bass,  so  long  as  I  may  eat  them,"  in  hu 
morous  paraphrase. 

There  was  no  little  excitement  over  the  arrival 
of  the  mail-boat.  They  were  all  eager  to  see  what 
the  Times  had  to  say.  There  was  a  column  or 
more  on  the  first  page,  subheaded.  Warrington's 
career  was  rather  accurately  portrayed,  but  there 
were  some  pungent  references  to  cabbages.  In 
the  leader,  on  the  editorial  page,  was  the  master - 
hand. 

"In  brief,  this  young  man  is  to  be  the  Republican 
203 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

candidate  for  mayor.  Grown  desperate  these  half- 
dozen  years  of  ineffectual  striving  for  political  pap, 
Senator  Henderson  resorts  to  such  an  expedient. 
But  the  coup  falls  flat ;  there  will  be  no  surprise  at 
the  convention ;  the  senator  loses  the  point  he  seeks 
to  score.  Personally,  we  have  nothing  to  say  against 
the  character  of  Mr.  Warrington.  After  a  fashion 
he  is  a  credit  to  his  native  town.  But  we  reaffirm, 
he  is  not  a  citizen,  he  is  not  eligible  to  the  high  office. 
If  he  accepts,  after  this  arraignment,  he  becomes 
nothing  more  than  an  impertinent  meddler.  What 
has  he  done  for  the  people  of  Herculaneum?  Noth 
ing.  Who  knows  anything  about  his  character,  his 
honor,  his  worth?  Nobody.  To  hoM  one's  franchise 
as  a  citizen  does  not  make  that  person  a  citizen  in 
the  honest  sense  of  the  word.  Let  Mr.  Warrington 
live  among  us  half  a  dozen  years,  and  then  we  shall 
see.  The  senator,  who  is  not  without  some  wisdom 
and  experience,  will  doubtless  withdraw  this  abor 
tive  candidate.  It's  the  only  logical  thing  he  can  do. 
We  dare  say  that  the  dramatist  accepted  the  honor 
with  but  one  end  in  view :  to  find  some  material  for 
a  new  play.  But  Herculaneum  declines  to  be  so  hon 
ored.  He  is  legally,  but  not  morally,  a  citizen.  He 
is  a  meddler,  and  Herculaneum  is  already  too  well 
supplied  with  meddlers.  Do  the  wise  thing,  Mr. 
Warrington ;  withdraw.  Otherwise  your  profit  will 
be  laughter  and  ridicule;  for  the  Republican  party 
can  never  hope  to  win  under  such  equivocal  leader 
ship.  That's  all  we  have  to  say." 

Warrington,  who  had  been  reading  the  articles 
aloud,  grinned  and  thrust  the  paper  into  his 
pocket. 

•"What  shall  you  do?"  asked  John  curiously. 
204 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"Do?  Go  into  the  fight  tooth  and  nail.  They 
dub  me  a  meddler ;  I'll  make  the  word  good." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Kate,  clapping  her  hands. 
She  caught  Patty  in  her  arms,  and  the  two 
waltzed  around  the  dock. 

The  two  men  shook  hands,  and  presently  all 
four  were  reading  their  private  letters.  War- 
rington  received  but  one.  It  was  a  brief  note 
from  the  senator.  "Pay  no  attention  to  Times' 
story.  Are  you  game  for  a  fight?  Write  me  at 
once,  and  I'll  start  the  campaign  on  the  receipt  of 
your  letter." 

"Patty,  where  do  you  write  letters  ?"  he  asked. 
He  called  her  Patty  quite  naturally.  Patty  was 
in  no  wise  offended. 

"In  the  reading-room  you  will  find  a  desk  with 
paper  and  pens  and  ink.  Shall  I  go  with  you?" 

"Not  at  all.  I've  only  a  note  to  scribble  to 
Senator  Henderson." 

Warrington  found  the  desk.  Upon  it  lay  a 
tablet.  He  wrote  hurriedly: 

"Start  your  campaign ;  I  am  in  it  now  to  the  last 
ditch." 

As  he  re-read  it,  he  observed  a  blur  in  the  grain 
of  the  paper.    On  closer  inspection  he  saw  that  it 
205 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

was  a  water-mark.  He  had  seen  one  similar,  but 
where?  His  heart  began  thumping  his  ribs.  He 
produced  the  inevitable  letter.  The  water-mark 
was  identical.  He  even  laid  the  letter  unfolded  on 
the  tablet.  It  fitted  exactly. 

"Patty !"  he  murmured  in  a  whisper. 

Patty  had  never  written  him  a  single  line; 
whenever  she  had  communicated  to  him  her  com 
mands,  it  had  been  by  telephone.  Patty  Benning- 
ton!  The  window  was  at  his  elbow.  He  looked 
out  and  followed  the  sky-line  of  the  hills  as  they 
rolled  away  to  the  south.  Patty !  It  was  a  very 
beautiful  world,  and  this  was  a  day  of  days.  It 
all  came  to  him  in  that  moment  of  discovery.  He 
had  drifted  along  toward  it  quite  unconsciously, 
as  a  river  might  idle  toward  the  sea.  Patty !  The 
light  of  this  knowledge  was  blinding  for  a  space. 
So  Warrington  came  into  his  own  romance.  It 
was  not  the  grand  passion,  which  is  always  me 
teoric;  it  was  rather  like  a  new  star,  radiant, 
peaceful,  eternal. 

"Patty!"    He  smiled. 


206 


CHAPTER  X 

It  was  only  when  the  whistle  of  the  returning 
boat  sounded  close  by  that  he  realized  he  had  been 
sitting  there  for  nearly  an  hour.  He  roused  him 
self,  sealed  and  addressed  his  letter  to  the  sen 
ator,  and  hurried  down  to  the  dock.  Patty  was 
alone,  mending  some  tackle. 

"It  must  be  a  long  letter,"  she  remarked,  stand 
ing  up  and  shaking  her  skirts. 

"Why,  this  is  only  the  beginning  of  it,"  he  re 
plied  ambiguously.  "It  is  never  going  to  end." 

"Mercy !    It  must  be  a  postscript." 

He  had  no  retort  handy,  so  he  contented  him 
self  with  watching  the  approach  of  the  boat. 

"Some  men  are  never  satisfied,"  she  said  owl- 
ishly.  "If  I  were  a  successful  dramatist,  such  as 
you  are,  a  public  office  would  look  rather  tawdry." 

"But  it's  real,  Patty;  it's  life  and  not  mum 
mery." 

"I  don't  know,"  doubtfully ;  "from  what  I  have 
read,  there  are  more  puppets  in  and  about  a  City 
Hall  than  ever  dangled  in  the  puppet  booth.  Did 
207 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

I  give  you  permission  to  call  me  Patty?"  de 
murely. 

"Not  that  I  recollect."  The  boat  came  sweep 
ing  up  to  the  dock,  and  he  tossed  the  senator's 
letter  to  the  boy.  The  boat  went  on  with  a  mu 
sical  gurgle.  "But  when  I  especially  like  any 
thing,  I  usually  appropriate  it." 

"I  can  see  that  you  will  make  a  good  politi 
cian." 

He  laughed  happily. 

"Evidently  you  like  the  name.  You  have  ap 
plied  it  to  me  three  times  this  morning." 

"Like  it?  Why,  I  think  it  is  the  most  charm 
ing  name  I  ever  heard.  It  smells  of  primroses, 
garden-walls,  soldiers  in  ragged  regimentals,  of 
the  time  when  they  built  houses  with  big-col 
umned  porches." 

"My!" 

"May  I  not  call  you  Patty?" 

"Oh,  if  you  ask  my  permission,  you  may." 

"I  do." 

"That  is  better." 

"Patty?" 

"Well." 

"Do  you  ever  look  in  your  mirror?" 

"The  idea !  Of  course  I  do.  I  look  in  it  every 
208 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

morning1  and  every  night.    And  as  often  as  I  find 
the  time.    Why?" 

"Nothing;  only,  I  do  not  blame  you." 
"What's  all  this  leading  to?"  frowning. 
"Heaven  knows!     But  I  feel  sentimental  this 
morning.    There  is  so  much  beauty  surrounding 
me  that  I  feel  impelled  to  voice  my  appreciation 
of  it." 

"There  is  no  remedy,  I  suppose." 
"None,  save  the  agony  of  extemporization." 
"I  have  never  heard  you  talk  like  this  before. 
What  is  the  matter?" 

"Perhaps  it  is  the  exhilaration  I  feel  for  the 
coming  fight.  Would  you  like  to  see  me  mayor  ?" 
"Indeed  I  should.  Think  of  the  circus  tickets 
you'd  have  to  give  away  each  year!  You  know 
they  always  give  the  mayor  a  handful  for  his  per 
sonal  use.  No,  Mr.  Warrington,  I  shall  be  very 
proud  of  you  when  you  are  mayor." 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  calling  me  Rich 
ard  or  Dick?" 

"We  must  not  advance  too  suddenly." 
"Is  there  anything  the  matter  with  the  name  ?" 
"Oh,  no;  Richard  is  quite  musical  in  its  way. 
But  I  am  always  thinking  of  the  humpbacked 
king.  If  I  called  you  anything  it  would  be  Dick." 
209 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Richard  was  not  humpbacked.  Moreover,  he 
was  a  valiant  king,  greatly  maligned  by  Mr. 
Shakespeare." 

"I  see  that  I  shall  not  dare  argue  with  you  on 
the  subject ;  but  we  can  not  banish  on  so  short  a 
notice  the  early  impressions  of  childhood.  Rich 
ard  Third  has  always  been  a  bugaboo  to  my  mind. 
Some  day,  perhaps,  I'll  get  over  it." 

"Make  it  Dick,  as  a  compromise." 

"Some  day,  when  I  have  known  you  a  little 
longer.  Has  John  ever  told  you  about  Mr.  Mc- 
Quade?" 

"McOuade  ?"  Warrington  realized  that  he  had 
been  floating  on  a  pleasant  sea.  He  came  upon 
the  hidden  shore  rather  soundly.  "McQuade?" 
he  repeated. 

"Yes.  He  had  the  audacity  to  propose  to 
mother  shortly  after  father's  death.  Think  of  it ! 
John  wrote  to  him  very  definitely  that  his  pres 
ence  in  the  house  would  no  longer  be  welcomed 
or  tolerated.  Father  had  some  slight  business 
transactions  with  Mr.  McQuade,  and  he  came  up 
to  the  house  frequently.  He  continued  these  vis 
its  after  father's  death.  We  treated  him  decently, 
but  we  simply  could  not  make  him  feel  wel 
come.  The  third  time  he  called  he  proposed. 

210 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Mother  left  the  room  without  even  replying.  He 
understood.  A  few  minutes  afterward  we  heard 
the  door  slam.  John  wrote  him  the  next  morn 
ing.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  to  equal  the 
cold-bloodedness  of  it?" 

Warrington  looked  at  her  in  absolute  amaze 
ment. 

"Well,  of  all  the  nerve !  Why  the  deuce  didn't 
John  punch  his  head?"  savagely. 

"Mr.  McQuade  is  not  a  gentleman;  John  is," 
simply.  "But  Mr.  McQuade  hasn't  forgotten; 
not  he.  He  pays  no  attention  to  any  of  us;  but 
that  is  no  sign  that  he  does  not  think  a  good  deal. 
However,  we  do  not  worry.  There  is  no  possible 
chance  for  him  to  retaliate ;  at  least  John  declares 
there  isn't.  But  sometimes  I  grow  afraid  when  I 
think  it  all  over.  To  his  mind  I  can  see  that  he 
considers  himself  badly  affronted ;  and  from  what 
I  know  of  his  history,  he  never  lets  an  affront 
pass  without  striking  back  in  some  manner." 

"Don't  you  worry  your  head  about  McQuade. 
What  do  you  think  ?  He  is  so  anxious  to  get  me 
out  of  the  political  arena  that  he  has  sent  a  man 
down  to  New  York  to  look  into  my  past.  Isn't 
that  droll?" 

Patty  stooped  again  to  the  fishing-tackle. 

211 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Such  men  as  McQuade  can  invent.  I  should 
be  very  careful,  if  I  were  you.  Your  own  con 
science  may  prove  you  guiltless  of  scandal,  but 
there  are  certain  people  who  would  rather  believe 
bad  than  good — scandal  than  truth ;  and  these  are 
always  in  the  majority.  Don't  laugh,  but  watch. 
That's  my  advice  to  you,  Mr.  Meddler."  She 
smiled  brightly  at  him  as  she  threaded  the  line 
through  the  guides  of  the  rod. 

"I  may  not  have  lived  as  cleanly  as  I  might 
have,"  he  said  soberly.  "I  have  been  knocked 
about  so  much.  There  were  times  when  I  grew 
tired  of  fighting.  But  I  have  never  done  any 
thing  that  will  not  stand  daylight.  There  was  a 
time,  Patty,  when  I  came  near  making  a  fool  of 
myself."  He  sat  down,  his  legs  swinging  over 
the  water.  "I  drank  more  than  was  good  for 
me."  He  stared  into  the  brown  water  and 
watched  the  minnows  as  they  darted  hither  and 
thither.  "I  was  alone;  things  went  wrong,  and 
I  was  cowardly  enough  to  fall  into  the  habit. 
But  it  was  only  periodically.  You  remember  that 
letter  I  showed  you?" 

"Yes."    Patty's  voice  was  low. 

"I  believe  I  have  read  it  a  thousand  times.  It 
has  caused  me  a  great  many  regrets.  I  should 
212 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

like,  some  day,  to  meet  the  writer  and  disillusion 
her.  One  thing  she  may  be  sure  of :  I  have  never 
belittled  the  talent  God  has  given  me.  I  have 
striven  for  the  ideal;  I  have  even  fought  for  it. 
That  part  of  my  life  holds  no  stain." 

"But  the  habit?"  hesitant. 

"It  is  gone,  where  all  fool-habits  go,  when  a 
man  has  will  power  to  rid  himself  of  them.  Pride 
has  something  to  do  with  it ;  and  I  have  my  share 
of  pride.  I  shall  never  go  back." 

His  head  was  turned  away,  but  she  could  see 
the  muscles  in  the  jaws  harden. 

"You  will  never  go  back,  I  am  sure,  Richard." 

That  she  had  at  last  pronounced  his  given  name 
did  not  stir  him;  in  fact,  it  passed  over  his  head 
and  hearing.  Like  a  dragon-brood,  he  saw  in 
fancy  his  past  follies  springing  up  about  him. 
Not  yet  could  he  tell  this  clean-minded,  gentle- 
bred  girl  that  he  loved  her.  He  must  prove  him 
self  still  further  before  he  might  utter  what  so 
thoroughly  filled  his  heart  and  mind. 

"Your  brother's  wife  brought  me  to  my  senses. 
What  I  am  to-day  she  in  part  has  made.  That  is 
why  I  think  so  much  of  her;  that  is  why  I  am 
happy  to  see  that -she  is  happy  and  has  realized 
her  heart's  desire.  Heigh-ho !  I  believe  I  am  mak- 
213 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

ing  you  my  confessor."  He  turned  his  face  to 
ward  her  now,  and  his  smile  was  rather  sad. 
"When  I  recall  the  worry  I  have  given  my  poor 
old  aunt,  who  loves  me  so,  I  feel  like  a  contempti 
ble  scoundrel.  How  many  countless  sacrifices  has 
she  made  for  me,  in  the  days  when  we  had  noth 
ing!  But  she  shall  have  all  the  comforts  now, 
and  all  the  love  and  kindness  I  am  capable  of  giv 
ing  her.  I  shall  never  leave  her  again." 

There  were  tears  in  Patty's  eyes.  "It  is  never 
too  late  to  mend;  and  when  a  man  is  penitent, 
truly  and  honestly  penitent,  much  shall  be  for 
given  him.  It  is  only  those  who  are  by  nature 
coarse  who  do  not  eventually  surmount  tempta 
tion.  What  you  have  told  me  I  have  known  this 
long  while." 

"You  have  known?"  he  cried  with  sinking 
heart. 

"Yes.  We  live  in  a  city  where  gossip  travels 
quickly  and  thoroughly.  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene 
was  telling  mother  one  afternoon  that  you  drank. 
I  suppose  she  felt  it  her  duty." 

"To  be  sure,"  bitterly.  "Was  it  while  I  havq 
been  living  at  home?" 

"No ;  when  the  rumor  came  that  you  were  com- 

ing." 

214 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

He  shrugged  expressively.  "I  ought  to  have 
known." 

"But  come ;  you  are  up  here  to  be  cheered,  not 
lectured.  Let  us  play  billiards.  I  can  hear  John 
and  Kate  playing  now.  We'll  play  sides;  and 
if  we  win  against  those  two,  I  promise  to  call  you 
Richard  once  a  day  while  you  are  up  here.  Or, 
would  you  rather  I  played  and  sang?" 

"Much  rather,"  brightening  up  a  bit.  "There 
is  always  time  to  play  billiards.  But  first,  I  want 
you  to  come  with  me  into  the  reading-room.  I 
have  something  to  show  you;  I  had  almost  for 
gotten." 

"The  reading-room?"  puzzled. 

"Yes.    Will  you  come?" 

She  nodded  her  assent,  and  the  two  entered  the 
house.  Warrington,  having  arrived  at  the  writ 
ing-desk,  bade  her  sit  down.  He  had  an  idea. 
Patty  sat  down. 

"I  want  you  to  write  something  for  me,"  he 
said,  pushing  the  pen  and  tablet  toward  her. 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  hand?"  she  de 
manded. 

"Nothing." 

"Then  why  do  you  want  me  to  write  ?" 

"I  have  never  seen  your  handwriting.     I'm 

215 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

something  of  an  expert  in  that  line.  I'll  read 
your  future." 

"But  I  don't  want  my  future  read,"  rebel- 
liously. 

"Well,  then,  your  past." 

"Much  less  my  past.  Come ;  you  are  only  beat 
ing  about  the  bush.  What  is  it  you  want  ?" 

"I  want  to  know,"  he  said  quietly,  "why  you 
have  kept  me  in  ignorance  all  this  while."  He 
laid  the  letter  on  the  desk,  and  placed  a  finger  on 
the  water-mark.  "It  wasn't  fair  to  let  me  com 
pose  panegyrics  over  it  all  the  while  you  were 
laughing  in  your  sleeve.  Ah,  I've  caught  you. 
You  can't  get  away  this  time,  Patty." 

"I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  you  are  talk 
ing  about."  But  she  looked  at  the  letter  and  not 
at  him. 

"Do  you  see  those  water-marks?"  he  de 
manded. 

"Yes.  You  will  find  them  in  a  thousand  tablets 
like  this.  I  bought  a  dozen  of  them  in  New 
York ;  cheap  and  handy." 

Warrington's  confidence  in  his  discovery  be 
gan  to  shake.  He  braced  himself  and  took  a  bold 
course. 

"Patty,  you  wrote  that  letter;  you  know  you 
216 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

did.     You  wrote  it  in  New  York,  the  day 
bought  the  tablets." 

"I?" 

"Yes.     Confess." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Warrington,  you  must  prove  it,'" 
lightly.  "It  would  not  be  proper  for  me  to  admit 
that  I  had  been  so  foolish  as  to  write  a  letter  like 
that." 

"But  you've  praised  it !" 

"Simply  because  praising  it  would  please  you ; 
for  no  other  reason." 

"Did  you,  or  did  you  not  write  it  ?" 

"Find  out.  You  must  prove  that  I  wrote  it. 
Certainly  I  have  nothing  to  confess." 

"You  will  not  answer  me  one  way  or  the 
other?" 

"No." 

"If  you  had  not  written  it  you  would." 

"I  don't  believe  I  shall  sing  this  morning,"  ris 
ing. 

"And  I  have  wondered  a  thousand  times  who 
could  have  written  it.  And  all  the  time  it  was 
you." 

"Nor  play  billiards,"  went  on  Patty. 

"If  only  I  were  all  you  hitherto  believed  me  to 
be!" 

217 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"Nor  fish  to-morrow  morning." 

"This  letter  has  been  like  an  anchor.  Immedi 
ately  upon  receiving  it  I  began  to  try  to  live  bet 
ter." 

"Nor  fish  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"And  I  had  forgotten  all  about  Jack's  having  a 
sister !" 

"Something  I  shall  neither  forget  nor  forgive. 
And  if  you  persist  in  accusing  me  of  writing  that 
letter,  I  promise  not  to  fish  again  while  you  are 
here."  She  walked  toward  the  door,  her  chin  held 
high. 

"You  wrote  it.  Come  and  sing.  I'll  say  noth 
ing  more  about  it.  There's  nothing  more  to  be 
said."  He  carelessly  picked  up  a  book  and  looked 
at  the  fly-leaf.  "From  Sister  Patty  to  Brother 
John,"  he  read.  There  was  no  mistake  now.  He 
laughed.  Patty  turned.  "The  writing  is  the 
same." 

"Is  it?" 

"Will  you  sing?" 

No  answer. 

"Please." 

Patty  stood  between  the  door  that  led  to  the 
veranda  and  the  door  that  led  to  the  music-room 
— between  Charybdis  and  Scylla,  as  it  were,  for 
218 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

she  knew  he  would  follow  her  whichever  way  she 
went.  She  turned  into  the  music-room. 

"Thanks,"  he  said. 

The  days  passed  all  too  quickly  for  Warring- 
ton.  He  walked  in  the  golden  glow  oi  his  first  ro 
mance,  that  romance  which  never  leaves  us  till 
life  itself  departs.  He  spoke  no  word  of  his  love, 
but  at  times  there  was  something  in  his  voice  that 
thrilled  Patty  and  subdued  her  elfish  gaiety. 
Some  girls  would  have  understood  at  once,  but 
Patty  was  different.  She  was  happy  one  mo 
ment,  and  troubled  the  next,  not  knowing  the 
reason.  She  was  not  analytical;  there  was  no 
sophistry  in  her  young  heart.  She  did  not  dream 
that  this  man  loved  her ;  she  was  not  vain  enough 
for  that. 

John  and  Kate  watched  them  approvingly. 
They  knew  the  worth  of  the  man ;  they  were  not 
at  all  worried  over  what  was  past.  They  saw 
their  own  romance  tenderly  reflected.  Mrs.  Ben- 
nington  was  utterly  oblivious.  Mothers  never  real 
ize  that  their  daughters  and  sons  must  some  day 
leave  them;  they  refuse  to  accept  this  natural 
law ;  they  lament  over  it  to-day  as  they  lamented 
in  the  days  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  truth  is, 
children  are  always  children  to  the  parents;  pa-. 
219 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

ternal  and  maternal  authority  believes  its  right 
indefinite. 

By  this  time  all  the  newspapers,  save  the  Tele 
graph,  had  made  readable  copy  out  of  Warring- 
ton's  candidacy.  Why  the  Telegraph  remained 
mute  was  rather  mystifying.  Warrington  saw 
the  hand  of  McQuade  in  this.  The  party  papers 
had  to  defend  the  senator,  but  their  defense  was 
not  so  strong  as  it  might  have  been.  Not  a  single 
sheet  came  out  frankly  for  Warrington.  The 
young  candidate  smoked  his  pipe  and  said  noth 
ing,  but  mentally  he  was  rolling1  up  his  sleeves  a 
little  each  day.  He  had  not  yet  pulled  through 
the  convention.  Strong  as  the  senator  was,  there 
might  yet  be  a  hitch  in  the  final  adjustment.  So 
far  nothing  had  come  of  Bolles'  trip  to  New 
York.  Occasionally  newspapers  from  the  near 
by  towns  fell  into  Warrington's  hands.  These 
spoke  of  his  candidacy  in  the  highest  terms,  and 
belabored  the  editors  of  Herculaneum  for  not  ac 
cepting  such  a  good  chance  of  ridding  itself  of 
McQuadeism. 

Meantime,  there  was  fishing,  long  trips  into 
the  heart  of  the  forests,  dancing  at  the  hotel  at 
the  head  of  the  lake,  billiards  and  music.  War 
rington  was  already  deeply  tanned,  and  Patty's 
220 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

nose  was  liberally  sprinkled  with  golden  freckles. 

One  evening  Kate  and  John  sat  on  the  veranda 
from  where  they  could  easily  watch  Warrington 
and  Patty  in  the  music-room. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  John?" 

"There's  not  a  finer  chap  in  the  world.  But  I 
don't  think  Patty  realizes  yet." 

"Dear  Patty !"  Kate  reached  over  and  took  his 
hand  in  hers,  laying  it  against  her  cold  cheek. 
"What  is  it,  John?  You  have  been  worried  all 
day." 

"Nothing ;  nothing  to  bother  you  with." 

"The  shops?  It  worries  me  when  you  don't 
confide  in  me  in  everything." 

"Well,  dear,  the  trouble  I've  been  expecting  for 
months  is  about  to  come.  You  know  that  young 
Chittenden,  the  English  inventor,  has  been  exper 
imenting  with  a  machine  that  will  do  the  work  of 
five  men.  They  have  been  trying  to  force  him  to 
join  the  union,  but  he  has  refused,  having  had 
too  many  examples  of  unionism  in  his  own  coun 
try  to  risk  his  independence  here.  Well,  I  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  the  general  manager  this 
morning.  Either  Chittenden  must  join  or  go; 
otherwise  the  men  will  go  out  September  first." 

"What  shall  you  do?" 

221 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"I  shall  keep  Chittenden.  I  am  master  there," 
striking  the  arm  of  his  chair;  "master  in  every 
thing.  If  they  go  out  in  September,  it  will  be  for 
good.  I  shall  tear  down  the  shops  and  build  model 
tenements." 

"John!" 

"I  am  sick  and  tired,  dear.  I  have  raised  the 
wages  all  over  the  district;  my  men  work  less 
than  any  other  hands  in  town.  I  have  built  a 
gymnasium  for  them,  given  them  books,  pool- 
tables,  and  games,  to  say  nothing  of  the  swim 
ming-tank.  I  have  arranged  the  annual  outings. 
I  have  established  a  pension-list.  But  all  this 
seems  to  have  done  no  good.  I  am  at  the  end  of 
the  rope.  Oh,  the  poor  devils  who  work  are  all 
right ;  it's  the  men  outside  who  are  raising  all  this 
trouble;  it's  the  union,  not  the  men.  There's  no 
denying  the  power  these  men  can  wield,  for 
wrong  or  right.  Ignorance  can  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  use  it  at  all  times  and  for  all  pur 
poses.  But  I  am  master  at  the  Bennington  shops ; 
injustice  shall  not  dictate  to  me.  They'll  use  it 
politically,  too.  After  all,  I'm  glad  I've  told 
you." 

"But,  John,  I'm  afraid  for  you.  They  may 
hurt  you." 

222 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

John  answered  with  a  sound  that  was  more  of 
a  growl  than  a  laugh. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  me,  honey;  I'm  no 
weakling.  I  wish  Dick  could  be  with  me  when 
the  fight  comes,  but  he  will  have  his  hands  full, 
and  the  strike  will  not  help  him  any.  Don't  you 
worry.  Father  always  felt  that  there  would  be 
trouble  some  day.  He  held  a  large  bundle  of 
bank-stock  and  railroad  bonds,  and  the  income 
from  these  alone  will  take  care  of  us  very  com 
fortably.  There's  a  good  deal  of  real  estate,  too, 
that  may  be  reckoned  on.  If  the  crash  does  come, 
we'll  pack  up,  take  the  mother,  and  go  abroad 
for  a  year  or  so.  But  before  I'm  done  I'll  teach 
local  unionism  a  lesson  it  will  not  forget  soon. 
Don't  you  worry,"  he  repeated  again;  "you  just 
leave  it  to  me." 

She  did  not  speak,  but  kissed  his  hand.  She 
knew  that  no  pleading  could  move  him;  and  be 
sides,  he  was  in  the  right. 

"I  don't  understand  the  lukewarmness  of  the 
party  papers,"  he  said.  "They  ought  to  hurrah 
over  Dick.  But  perhaps  the  secret  machinery  is 
being  set  to  work,  and  they've  been  told  that  there 
will  be  trouble  at  the  convention.  The  senator 
never  backs  down,  and  I've  never  seen  anybody 
223 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

that  could  frighten  Dick.  There'll  be  some  inter 
esting  events  this  fall.  Herculaneum  will  figure 
in  the  newspapers  from  Maine  to  California,  for 
everybody  is  familiar  with  Warrington's  name 
and  work.  It's  a  month  yet  before  the  delegates 
get  together;  either  Warrington  will  run  or  he 
won't.  Calling  him  a  meddler  is  good.  If  the 
Times  isn't  a  meddler,  I  never  saw  one  and  have 
misunderstood  the  meaning  of  the  word." 

In  the  music-room  Patty  was  playing  Grieg 
and  MacDowell,  and  Warrington  was  turning  the 
pages.  The  chords,  weird  and  melancholy, 
seemed  to  permeate  his  whole  being;  sad,  haunt 
ing  music,  that  spoke  of  toil,  tears,  death  and 
division,  failure  and  defeat,  hapless  love  and 
loveless  happiness.  After  a  polonaise,  Patty 
stopped. 

"If  music  were  only  lasting,  like  a  painting,  a 
statue,  a  book,"  she  said;  "but  it  isn't.  Why, 
these  things  haunt  me  every  day,  but  I  can  recol 
lect  nothing;  I  have  to  come  back  to  the  piano. 
It  is  elusive." 

"And  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  arts  that 

arouse  the  emotions.     Hang  it!  when  I  hear  a 

great  singer,  a  great  violinist,  half  the  time  I  find 

an  invisible  hand  clutching  me  by  the  throat, 

224 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

.    .    .    Patty,  honestly  now,  didn't  you  write  that 
letter?" 

"Yes,"  looking  him  courageously  in  the  eyes. 
"And  I  hope  you  were  not  laughing  when  you  | 
said  all  those  kind  things  about  it." 

"Laughing?  No,"  gravely,  "I  was  not  laugh 
ing.  Play  something  lively;  Chaminade;  I  am 
blue  to-night." 

So  Patty  played  the  light,  enchanting  sketches. 
In  the  midst  of  one  of  them  she  stopped  suddenly. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"I  thought  I  heard  the  boat's  whistle.  Listen. 
Yes,  there  it  is.  It  must  be  a  telegram.  They 
never  come  up  to  the  head  of  the  lake  at  night  for 
anything  less.  There  goes  John  with  a  lantern." 

"Never  mind  the  telegram,"  he  said;  "play." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  John  and  Kate  came 
in. 

"A  telegram  for  you,  Dick,"  John  announced, 
sending  the  yellow  envelope  skimming  through 
the  air. 

Warrington  caught  it  deftly.  He  balanced  it 
in  his  hand  speculatively. 

"It  is  probably  a  hurry-call  from  the  senator. 
I  may  have  to  go  back  to  town  to-morrow.     I 
have  always  hated  telegrams." 
225 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

He  opened  it  carelessly  and  read  it.  He  read 
it  again,  slowly;  and  Patty,  who  was  nearest  to 
him,  saw  his  face  turn  gray  under  the  tan  and 
his  lips  tremble.  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
dumbly,  then  back  at  the  sheet  in  his  hand. 

"Richard !"  said  Kate,  with  that  quick  intuition 
which  leaps  across  chasms  of  doubt  and  arrives 
definitely. 

"My  aunt  died  this  afternoon,"  he  said,  his 
voice  breaking,  for  he  had  not  the  power  to  con 
trol  it. 

Nobody  moved;  a  kind  of  paralysis  touched 
them  all. 

"She  died  this  afternoon,  and  I  wasn't  there." 
There  is  something  terribly  pathetic  in  a  strong 
man's  grief. 

"Dick !"  John  rushed  to  his  side.  "Dick,  old 
man,  there  must  be  some  mistake." 

He  seized  the  telegram  from  Warrington's 
nerveless  fingers.  There  was  no  mistake.  The 
telegram  was  signed  by  the  family  physician. 
Then  John  did  the  kindliest  thing  in  his  power. 

"Do  you  wish  to  be  alone,  Dick  ?" 

Warrington  nodded.  John  laid  the  telegram 
on  the  table,  and  the  three  of  them  passed  out  of 
the  room.  A  gust  of  wind,  coming  down  from 
226 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

the  mountains,  carried  the  telegram  gently  to  the 
floor.  Warrington,  leaning  against  the  table, 
stared  down  at  it. 

What  frightful  things  these  missives  are! 
Charged  with  success  or  failure,  riches  or  poverty, 
victory  or  defeat,  births  or  deaths,  they  fly  to  and 
fro  around  the  great  world  hourly,  on  ominous 
and  sinister  wings.  A  letter  often  fails  to  reach 
us,  but  a  telegram,  never.  It  is  the  messenger  of 
fate,  whose  emissaries  never  fail  to  arrive. 

Death  had  never  before  looked  into  Warring- 
ton's  life ;  he  had  viewed  it  with  equanimity,  with 
a  tolerant  pity  for  those  who  succumbed  to  it,  for 
those  whose  hearts  it  ravaged  with  loneliness  and 
longing.  He  had  used  it  frequently  in  his  busi 
ness  as  a  property  by  which  to  arouse  the  emo 
tions  of  his  audiences.  That  it  should  some  day 
stand  at  his  side,  looking  into  his  eyes,  never  oc 
curred  to  him.  He  tried  to  think,  to  beguile  him 
self  into  the  belief  that  he  should  presently  awake 
to  find  it  a  dream.  Futile  expedient!  She  was 
dead;  that  dear,  kind,  loving  heart  was  dead. 
Ah !  and  she  had  died  alone !  A  great  sob  choked 
him.  He  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  arms.  The  past  rushed  over  him  like  a  vast 
wave.  How  many  times  had  he  carelessly  wound- 
227 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

fed  that  heart  which  had  beat  solely  for  him! 
How  many  times  had  he  given  his  word,  only  to 
break  it !  He  was  alone,  alone ;  death  had  severed 
the  single  tie ;  he  was  alone.  Death  is  kind  to  the 
dead,  but  harsh  to  the  living.  Presently  his  sighs 
became  less  regular,  and  at  length  they  ceased  en 
tirely. 

The  portiere  rustled  slightly,  and  Patty's  face 
became  visible.  Her  eyes  were  wet.  She  had 
tried  to  keep  away,  but  something  drew  her  ir 
resistibly.  Her  heart  swelled.  If  only  she  might 
touch  his  bowed  head,  aye,  kiss  the  touches  of 
grey  at  the  temples;  if  only  she  might  console 
him  in  this  hour  of  darkness  and  grief.  Poor 
boy,  poor  boy!  She  knew  not  how  long  she 
watched  him;  it  might  have  been  minutes  or 
hours;  she  was  without  recollection  of  time.  A 
hand  touched  her  gently  pn  the  arm.  Kate  stood 
by  her  side. 

"Come,"  she  whispered ;  "come,  Patty." 

Patty  turned  without  question  or  remonstrance 
and  followed  her  up  stairs. 

"Kate,  dear  Kate!" 

"What  is  it,  darling?" 

"He  is  all  alone!" 

At  midnight  John  tiptoed  into  the  music-room. 
228 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington  had  not  moved.  John  tapped  him  pn 
the  shoulder. 

"You  mustn't  stay  here,  old  man.  Come  to 
bed." 

Warrington  stood  up. 

"Would  you  like  a  drop  of  brandy  ?" 

Warrington  shook  his  head. 

"It  is  terribly  hard,"  said  John,  throwing  his 
arm  across  the  other's  shoulders.  "I  know ;  I  un 
derstand.  You  are  recalling  all  the  mistakes,  all 
the  broken  promises,  all  the  disappointments. 
That  is  but  natural.  But  in  a  few  days  all  the 
little  acts  of  kindness  will  return  to  your  memory ; 
all  the  good  times  you  two  have  had  together,  the 
thousand  little  benefits  that  made  her  last  days 
pleasant.  These  will  soften  the  blow,  Dick." 

"I  wasn't  there,"  Warrington  murmured  dully. 
His  mind  could  accept  but  one  fact :  his  aunt  had 
died  alone,  without  his  being  at  the  bedside.- 

It  rained  in  Herculaneum  that  night.  The 
pavement  in  Williams  Street  glistened  sharply, 
for  a  wind  was  swinging  the  arc-lamps.  The 
trees  on  the  Warrington  lawn  sighed  incessantly ; 
and  drip,  drip,  drip,  went  the  rain  on  the  leaves. 
Not  a  light  shone  anywhere  in  the  house;  total 
229 


darkness  brooded  over  it.  In  one  of  the  rooms  a 
dog  lay  with  his  nose  against  the  threshold  of  the 
door.  From  time  to  time  he  whined  mournfully. 
In  another  room  an  Angora  cat  stalked  restlessly 
back  and  forth,  sometimes  leaping  upon  a  chair, 
sometimes  trotting  round  and  round,  and  again, 
wild-eyed  and  furtive,  it  stood  motionless,  as  if 
listening.  Death  had  entered  the  house;  and 
death,  to  the  beast,  is  not  understandable. 


230 


CHAPTER  XI 

Everybody  had  gone  down  the  winding  road 
to  the  granite  entrance  of  the  cemetery ;  the  min 
ister,  the  choir,  the  friends  and  those  who  had 
come  because  they  reveled  in  morbid  scenes. 
These  were  curious  to  see  how  Warrington  was 
affected,  if  he  showed  his  grief  or  contained  it,  so 
that  they  might  have  something  to  talk  about  till 
some  one  else  died.  There  are  some  people  in  this 
merry  world  of  ours  who,  when  they  take  up  the 
evening  paper,  turn  first  to  the  day's  death  no 
tices;  who  see  no  sermons  in  the  bright  flowers, 
the  birds  and  butterflies,  the  misty  blue  hills,  the 
sunshine,  who  read  no  lesson  in  beauty,  who  rec 
ognize  no  message  in  the  moon  and  the  stars,  in 
cheerfulness  and  good  humor.  On  the  contrary, 
they  seem  to  abhor  the  sunshine ;  they  keep  their 
parlors  for  ever  in  musty  darkness,  a  kind  of  tomb 
where  they  place  funeral  wreaths  under  glass 
globes  and  enter  but  half  a  dozen  times  a  year. 
Well,  even  these  had  finally  dragged  themselves 
231 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

away  from  the  grave,  and  left  Warrington  stand 
ing  alone  beside  the  brown  roll  of  damp  fresh 
earth.  No  carriage  awaited  him,  for  he  had  sig 
nified  his  intention  of  walking  home. 

All  about  him  the  great  elms  and  maples  and 
oaks  showed  crisp  against  the  pale  summer  sky. 
Occasionally  a  leaf  fell.  A  red  squirrel  chattered 
above  him,  and  an  oriole  sang  shrilly  and  joy 
ously  near  by.  The  sun  was  reddening  in  the 
west,  and  below,  almost  at  his  feet,  the  valley 
swam  in  a  haze  of  delicate  amethyst.  The  curv 
ing  stream  glittered.  From  where  he  stood  he 
could  see  them  bundling  up  the  sheaves  of  wheat. 
All  these  things  told  him  mutely  that  the  world 
was  going  on  the  same  as  ever;  nothing  had 
changed.  In  the  city  men  and  women  were  going 
about  their  affairs  as  usual;  the  smoke  rolled  up 
from  the  great  chimneys.  When  all  is  said,  our 
griefs  and  joys  are  wholly  our  own ;  the  outsider 
does  not  participate. 

Yes,  the  world  went  on  just  the  same.  Death 
makes  a  vacancy,  but  the  Great  Accountant  easily 
fills  it ;  and  the  summing  up  of  balances  goes  on. 
Let  us  thank  God  for  the  buoyancy  of  the  human 
spirit,  which,  however  sorely  tried,  presently  rises 
and  assumes  its  normal  interest  in  life. 
232 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington  looked  dreamily  at  the  grave,  and 
the  philosopher  in  him  speculated  upon  the  mys 
tery  of  it.  Either  the  grave  is  Heaven  or  it  is 
nothing;  one  can  proceed  no  farther.  If  there 
was  a  Heaven  (and  in  the  secret  corner  of  his 
heart  he  believed  there  was),  a  new  star  shone  in 
the  sky  at  night,  a  gentle,  peaceful  star.  Just 
now  the  pain  came  in  the  knowledge  that  she  was 
gone ;  later  the  actual  absence  would  be  felt.  For 
a  month  or  so  it  would  seem  that  she  had  gone 
on  a  journey ;  he  would  find  himself  waiting  and 
watching;  but  as  the  weeks  and  months  went  by, 
and  he  heard  not  her  step  nor  her  voice,  then 
would  come  the  real  anguish.  They  tell  us  that 
these  wounds  heal;  well,  maybe;  but  they  open 
and  reopen  and  open  again  till  that  day  we  our 
selves  cease  to  take  interest  in  worldly  affairs. 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  one  of  the  roses 
which  she  had  held  in  her  hand.  Reverently  he 
pressed  his  lips  to  it  and  put  it  away  in  his  wallet. 
Then  he  turned  and  went  slowly  down  the  hill. 
He  had  never  really  known  her  till  these  last  few 
months;  not  till  now  did  he  realize  how  closely 
knit  together  had  been  their  lives  and  affections. 
He  lighted  a  cigar,  and  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back  and  his  chin  in  his  collar,  he  continued  to 
233 


the  gates.  The  old  care-taker  opened  and  closed 
the  gates  phlegmatically.  Day  by  day  they  came, 
and  one  by  one  they  never  went  out  again.  To 
him  there  was  neither  joy  nor  grief;  if  the  grass 
grew  thick  and  the  trees  leaved  abundantly,  that 
was  all  he  desired. 

It  was  a  long  walk  to  Williams  Street,  and  he 
was  tired  when  he  entered  the  house.  Jove  leaped 
upon  him  gladly.  Warrington  held  the  dog's 
head  in  his  hands  and  gazed  into  the  brown  eyes. 
Here  was  one  that  loved  him,  wholly  and  without 
question.  You  will  always  find  some  good  in  the 
man  who  retains  the  affection  of  his  dog.  In 
good  times  or  bad,  they  are  stanch  friends;  and 
they  are  without  self-interest,  which  is  more  than 
human.  In  the  living-room  he  found  the  Angora 
curled  up  on  a  sofa-cushion.  He  smoothed  her, 
and  she  stretched  her  lithe  body  luxuriously  and 
yawned.  There  is  no  other  animal  which  so  com 
pletely  interprets  the  word  indifference.  Warring- 
ton  wondered  what  he  should  do  with  her,  for  he 
was  not  very  fond  of  cats.  But  his  aunt  had 
loved  her,  so  he  passed  on  to  the  dining-room 
without  deciding  what  to  do. 

It  was  a  lonely  supper.  He  kept  his  eyes  on  his 
plate  as  well  as  he  could ;  for  whenever  he  saw  the 
234 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

back  of  her  chair,  his  food  choked  him.  He  won 
dered  why  he  did  not  take  the  decanter  of  whisky 
down  from  the  sideboard ;  a  generous  tumblerful. 
.-  .  .  No.  This  was  the  first  time  in  months 
that  the  desire  to  drink  deeply  came  to  him.  No ; 
he  would  leave  it  there.  Supper  done,  he  went  to 
his  den  and  took  down  a  book.  Could  he  live 
here  now  ?  He  doubted  it,  for  it  was  a  house  of 
empty  doors.  He  settled  himself  in  a  chair  and 
turned  the  pages  of  the  book  to  a  place  he  loved 
well.  It  was  where  D'Artagnan,  representing 
Planchet  and  Company,  returns  to  the  grocer 
with  the  bags  of  English  gold  which,  for  several 
good  reasons,  Charles  Second  has  given  him  for 
General  Monk's  sword.  He  was  well  along  toward 
the  fainting  of  the  honest  Planchet  on  the  money 
bags,  when  the  telephone  rang.  He  took  up  the 
receiver. 

"Well?" 

"Mama  wants  you  to  come  over  and  spend  the 
night  with  us.  John  and  Kate  will  be  here, 
too." 

He  recognized  Patty's  voice. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to,"  he  replied.  "Good- 
by."  He  rang  for  Mary,  who  came  in,  her  eyes 
red  and  swollen.  Poor  soul,  she  had  also  lost  her 
235 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

best  friend.  "I  am  going  over  to  the  Benning- 
tons'  to  spend  the  night,  Mary." 

"Very  well,  sir ;  just  as  you  think  best." 

The  Benningtons  were  very  kind  to  him.  They 
engaged  his  interest  the  moment  he  entered  the 
house.  They  talked  of  a  thousand  and  one  things 
diverting:  the  foreign  news,  the  political  outlook, 
the  September  horse-show  at  which  Patty  would 
ride  and  jump,  what  was  contemplated  in  society 
for  the  fall  and  winter,  the  ice-carnival,  and  the 
engagements. 

"Why  don't  you  enter  your  Irish  hunter?" 
asked  John,  when  the  talk  veered  around  to 
horses  again. 

"I  ride  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  it,"  replied 
Warrington;  "or,  if  you  will,  I'm  too  lazy  to  learn 
the  judges'  catechism." 

Presently  they  had  him  telling  how  he  had 
written  his  first  play,  and  how  completely  Mrs. 
Jack  had  fooled  him  on  their  first  meeting. 

"No,  I  have  not  the  slightest  desire  to  return  to 
the  stage,"  said  Mrs.  Jack,  in  answer  to  a  casual 
inquiry  made  by  Warrington. 

"Not  while  I'm  around,"  supplemented  John. 

"Why,  nothing  could  lure  me  back  to  it,"  Mrs. 
Jack  declared  emphatically.  "I  am  happy.  I  am 
236 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

very  happy.  I  have  nothing  to  wish  for,  save 
that  my  happiness  may  endure." 

Mrs.  Bennington,  who  had  long  since  grown  to 
love  her  daughter-in-law,  smiled  benignly. 

"You  will  always  be  happy,  my  dear ;  you  were 
born  to  be.  It  is  the  just  reward  for  making 
those  around  you  happy." 

"Patty,"  said  Warrington,  "would  you  like  the 
Angora?" 

"I  should  love  it  dearly." 

"Then  I'll  send  it  over  to  you  in  the  morning." 

And  that  was  as  near  as  they  approached  the 
subject  they  were  tacitly  avoiding. 

At  a  quarter  of  nine,  to  the  consternation  of 
every  one,  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  was  an 
nounced. 

"Take  me  up  stairs  to  the  billiard-room,"  said 
Warrington.  "I  am  not  in  the  mood  to  meet  that 
woman  to-night." 

"Come  on,  then,"  cried  John,  willing  enough. 
"There's  the  servants'  stairs.  I'll  give  you  a  han 
dicap  of  twenty  in  a  hundred  points." 

"I'll  beat  you  at  those  odds." 

"That  remains  to  be  seen." 

And  the  two  hurried  up  the  stairs  just  as  the 
hall-door  closed.  The  billiard-room  was  situated 
237 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

at  the  head  of  the  front  stairs.  Warrington  won 
the  bank,  and  he  ran  a  score  of  ten.  While  he  was 
chalking  his  cue  he  heard  voices. 

"It  is  very  sad."  It  was  Mrs.  Franklyn-Hal- 
dene  talking.  "We  shall  miss  her  in  church  work. 
It  is  a  severe  blow  to  Mr.  Warrington." 

"That  was  a  good  draw,  John.  Three  cush 
ions  this  time.  Good.  You're  playing  strong  to 
night." 

"Did  you  think  to  bring  over  your  pajamas?" 
John  asked  irrelevantly. 

Warrington  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"I  forgot  all  about  them,"  he  admitted. 

"Thought  you  would,  so  I  brought  over  two 
sets.  We're  about  the  same  size.  Pshaw!  that 
was  an  easy  one,  too." 

Warrington  missed  his  shot.  He  heard  voices 
again. 

"And  I  want  you  to  help  me."  It  was  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene  again.  "We  shall  reorganize 
the  Woman's  Auxiliary  Republican  Club,  and  we 
shall  need  you.  It  is  principally  for  that  that  I 
came  over." 

"I  take  very  little  interest  in  anything  outside 
my  home,"  replied  Mrs.  Bennington. 
238 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Did  you  get  that?"  whispered  Jonn,  as  he 
drew  back  for  a  carom. 

"But  this  is  very  important  for  the  city's  wel 
fare,"  pursued  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene. 

"I  doubt  it.    So  long  as  we  do  not  vote — " 

"That's  just  it.  We  can't  vote,  but  we  can  get 
together  and  control  the  male  vote  in  the  family. 
That's  something." 

John  grinned  at  Warrington,  who  replied  with 
a  shrug. 

"And  they  all  call  me  the  meddler !"  he  said. 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  staying  on  here 
a  few  days,  Dick?" 

"I  should  be  nothing  but  a  bother  to  you." 

"Rot !    You  can't  stay  alone  over  there." 

"I'll  have  to ;  I  can't  leave  those  poor  old  souls 
alone.  They  are  broken-hearted.  I  sent  her  two 
hundred  every  month  regularly,  just  for  pin- 
money;  and  what  do  you  think  she  did  with  it? 
Hoarded  it  up  and  willed  something  like  two 
thousand  to  Mary  and  her  husband.  I'm  all  in, 
Dick.  But  go  on ;  I'll  finish  the  game." 

"All  right.     But  whenever  you  feel  lonesome, 
come  here  or  over  to  my  house.    There'll  always 
be  a  spare  room  for  you  in  either  house." 
239 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"It's  mighty  kind  of  you,  John.  My  shot?" 
Warrington  ran  four  and  missed. 

Voices  again. 

"I  never  believe  what  I  hear,  and  only  half  of 
what  I  see."  That  was  Mrs.  Jack  speaking. 

Murmurs.  The  billiard-balls  clicked  sharply  as 
John  played  for  position. 

"The  stage  doesn't  appeal  to  you  any  more, 
then?"  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene. 

"Not  in  the  least.  It  never  did  appeal  to  me. 
I  am  so  far  away  from  it  now  that  I  am  losing 
the  desire  to  witness  plays." 

"And  for  whom  will  Mr.  Warrington  write  his 
plays  now  ?" 

"The  vacancy  I  made  has  long  ago  been  filled. 
I  was  but  one  in  a  thousand  to  interpret  his  char 
acters.  There  is  always  a  lack  of  plays,  but  never 
of  actors." 

"Excuse  me  for  a  moment."  It  was  Patty  this 
time. 

"Certainly,  my  dear." 

Warrington  heard  nothing  more  for  several 
minutes. 

"Is  it  true  what  I  hear  about  Patty  and  that 
rich  young  Mr.  Whiteland,  of  New  York?" 

"What  is  it  that  you  have  heard  ?" 
240 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Why,  that  their  engagement  is  about  to  be  an 
nounced." 

Warrington  stood  perfectly  still.  Whiteland 
had  been  a  guest  at  the  Adirondack  bungalow 
earlier  in  the  summer.  He  waited  for  the  an 
swer,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  would  never 
come. 

"I  am  not  engaged  to  any  one,  Mrs.  Haldene, 
and  I  hope  you  will  do  me  the  favor  to  deny  the 
report  whenever  you  come  across  it."  Patty  had 
returned.  "It  seems  incredible  that  a  young  man 
may  not  call  upon  a  young  woman  without  their 
names  becoming  coupled  matrimonially." 

"Nevertheless,  he  is  regarded  as  extremely  eli 
gible." 

"I  have  often  wondered  over  Haldene's  regu 
lar  Saturday  night  jag  at  the  club,"  said  John, 
stringing  his  count,  "but  I  wonder  no  longer. 
They  say  she  never  goes  put  Saturdays." 

Warrington  heard  the  words,  but  the  sense  of 
them  passed  by.  He  could  realize  only  one  thing, 
and  that  was,  he  loved  Patty  better  than  all  the 
world.  He  could  accept  his  own  defeat  with  phi 
losophy,  but  another  man's  success ! — could  he 
accept  that?  How  strangely  everything  had 
changed  in  the  last  few  days!  He  had  never 
241 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

known  real  mental  anguish;  heartaches  in  others 
had  always  afforded  him  mild  amusement  and 
contempt.  It  was  one  thing,  he  reflected,  to  write 
about  human  emotions;  it  was  entirely  another 
thing  to  live  and  act  them.  He  saw  that  his  past 
had  been  full  of  egotism  and  selfishness,  but  he 
also  saw  that  his  selfishness  was  of  the  kind  that 
has  its  foundation  in  indifference  and  not  in  cal 
culation.  The  voices  went  on  down  stairs,  but 
he  ceased  to  pay  any  attention  to  them. 

"John,  there's  been  something  in  my  mind  for 
many  months." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Do  you  recollect  the  night  you  came  into  my 
rooms  in  New  York?" 

"I  shall  never  forget  it,"  quietly. 

"Your  wife  was  there." 

"I  know  it.  I  found  her  gloves."  He  made  a 
difficult  masse.  "She  told  me  all  about  it.  At 
the  time,  however,  I  had  a  pretty  bad  case  of 
heart-trouble.  But  I  understand.  She  was  in  the 
habit  of  dropping  in  on  you.  Why  not?  Your 
cooperation  made  you  both  famous.  A  man  in 
love  finds  all  sorts  of  excuses  for  jealousy.  But 
I'm  glad  you've  spoken.  I  can  readily  under- 
242 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

stand  how  you  felt  when  you  found  the  gloves 
gone." 

"You're  a  good  man,  John,"  said  Warrington. 

"Kate  loves  me;  it  ought  to  make  any  man 
good  to  have  a  wife  who  loves  him.  I  have  no  use 
for  a  man  who  sees  evil  in  everything  and  good 
in  nothing.  Say  no  more  about  it,  boy." 

"I  hadn't  seen  you  in  so  long  that  I  was  con 
fused.  If  I  had  reflected  .  .  .  But  you  see,  I 
didn't  know  that  you  were  engaged,  or  even  that 
you  knew  her.  I  never  understood,  until  you 
were  gone,  why  she  wanted  to  hide  herself.  I'm 
glad  I've  relieved  my  mind."  Warrington  sighed. 

"It's  all  right.  There !  I  told  you  that  I'd  win 
even  at  those  odds." 

Presently  they  heard  a  stir  down  stairs.  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene  was  going.  The  door  closed. 
The  family  came  up  to  the  billiard-room.  War 
rington  looked  at  Patty,  whose  cheeks  were 
flushed  and  whose  eyes  flashed. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Pat  ?"  John  asked. 

"Nothing." 

"Mrs.  Haldene  has  been  making  herself  use 
ful  as  usual,"  said  Mrs.  Jack,  slipping  her  arm 
around  Patty's  waist. 

243 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Patty  was  in  a  rage  about  something;  nobody 
seemed  to  know  what  it  was. 

"You  are  not  going  to  join  the  Auxiliary,  are 
you,  mother?"  John  inquired,  putting  the  cues  in 
the  rack. 

"Indeed  I  am  not.  The  men  in  my  family  al 
ways  used  their  own  judgment  in  politics.  They 
have  always  been  Whigs  or  Republicans." 

"Did  you  ever  meet  a  woman,  Dick,  who  was  a 
Democrat?"  laughed  John. 

"Perhaps,"  was  the  reply,  "but  it  has  escaped 
my  recollection." 

But  he  was  thinking:  after  all,  he  had  a  right 
to  win  Patty  if  he  could.  It  was  not  what  he  had 
done  in  the  past,  it  was  what  he  was  capable  of 
doing  from  now  on  that  counted. 

"You're  going  to  have  a  stiff  fight  at  the  con 
vention,"  said  John. 

"I  know  it.  But  a  fight  of  any  kind  will  keep 
my  mind  occupied.  The  senator  has  assured  me 
that  I  shall  get  the  nomination." 

On  the  way  home  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  saw 

the  flutter  of  a  white  dress  on  the  Wilmington- 

Fairchilds'  veranda.     She  couldn't  resist,  so  she 

crossed  the  lawn  and  mounted  the  veranda  steps. 

244 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

She  did  not  observe  her  husband  in  the  corner, 
smoking  with  the  master  of  the  house. 

"I've  been  over  to  the  Benningtons',"  she  began, 
rather  breathless. 

"What's  the  news?" 

"There  is  no  truth  in  the  report  of  Patty's  en 
gagement  to  young  Whiteland." 

"There  isn't  ?  Well,  there  ought  to  be,  after  the 
way  they  went  around  together  last  winter." 

"She  told  me  so  herself,"  Mrs.  Franklyn-Hal- 
dene  declared  emphatically.  "Do  you  know  what 
I  believe?" 

"No,"  truthfully. 

"I've  an  idea  that  Patty  is  inclined  toward  that 
fellow  Warrington." 

"You  don't  mean  it !" 

"He's  always  around  there.  He  must  have 
thought  a  great  deal  of  his  aunt.  She  was  buried 
to-day,  and  there  he  is,  playing  billiards  with 
John  Bennington.  If  that  isn't  heartlessness !" 

"What  do  you  want  a  man  to  do?"  growled 
her  husband  from  behind  his  cigar.  "Sit  in  a  dark 
room  and  wring  his  hands  all  day,  like  a  woman  ? 
Men  have  other  things  to  do  in  life  than  mourn 
the  departed." 

"Franklyn  ?  I  didn't  see  you." 
245 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"You  seldom  do." 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  at  once  plunged  into  a 
discussion  of  fashion,  the  one  thing  that  left  her 
husband  high  and  dry,  so  far  as  his  native  irony 
|  was  concerned. 

That  same  night  McQuade  concluded  some  in 
teresting  business.  He  possessed  large  interests 
in  the  local  breweries.  Breweries  on  the  average 
do  not  pay  very  good  dividends  on  stock,  so  the 
brewer  often  establishes  a  dozen  saloons  about 
town  to  help  the  business  along.  McQuade  owned 
a  dozen  or  more  of  these  saloons,  some  in  the 
heart  of  the  city,  some  in  the  outlying  wards  of 
the  town.  He  conducted  the  business  with  his 
usual  shrewdness.  The  saloons  were  all  well  man 
aged  by  Germans,  who,  as  a  drinking  people,  are 
the  most  orderly  in  the  world.  It  was  not  gen 
erally  known  that  McQuade  was  interested  in  the 
sale  of  liquors.  His  name  was  never  mentioned 
in  connection  with  the  saloons. 

One  of  these  saloons  was  on  a  side  street.  The 
back  door  of  it  faced  the  towpath.  It  did  not  have 
a  very  good  reputation;  and  though,  for  two 
years,  no  disturbances  had  occurred  there,  the 
police  still  kept  an  eye  on  the  place.  It  was  on  the 
246 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

boundary  line  of  the  two  most  turbulent  wards  in 
the  city.  To  the  north  was  the  Italian  colony,  to 
the  south  was  the  Irish  colony.  Both  were  or 
derly  and  self-respecting  as  a  rule,  though  squalor 
and  poverty  abounded.  But  these  two  races  are  at 
once  the  simplest  and  most  quick-tempered,  and 
whenever  an  Irishman  or  an  Italian  crossed  the 
boundary  line  there  was  usually  a  hurry  call  for 
the  patrol  wagon,  and  some  one  was  always  more 
or  less  battered  up. 

Over  this  saloon  was  a  series  of  small  rooms 
which  were  called  "wine  rooms,"  though  nobody 
opened  wine  there.  Beer  was  ten  cents  a  glass 
up  stairs,  and  whisky  twenty.  Women  were  not 
infrequently  seen  climbing  the  stairs  to  these 
rooms.  But,  as  already  stated,  everybody  behaved. 
Schmiick,  who  managed  the  saloon,  was  a  giant 
of  a  man,  a  Turnvereiner,  who  could  hold  his 
own  with  any  man  in  town.  It  will  be  understood 
that  the  orderliness  was  therefore  due  to  a  respect 
for  Schmuck's  strength,  and  not  to  any  inclination 
to  be  orderly. 

On  this  night,  then,  at  nine  o'clock,  a  man  en 
tered  and  approached  the  bar.  He  was  sharp- 
eyed,  lean-faced,  with  a  heavy  blue  beard  closely 
shaven,  saving  the  mustache,  which  was  black  and 
247 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

hung  over  the  man's  lips.  He  wore  good  clothes. 
There  was  a  large  diamond  on  one  of  his  ringers 
and  another  in  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  in  which  a 
white  tie  was  tucked  carefully.  They  were  yellow 
diamonds.  But  those  among  whom  this  man 
moved  did  not  know  the  difference  between  yel 
low  stones  and  white.  Morrissy  was  accounted 
very  well-to-do. 

"Hello,  Schmiick !"  he  hailed.  "Got  the  room 
up  stairs  in  order?" 

"Yes."  Schmiick  wiped  the  bar.  "Der  poss  iss 
coming  to-night,  I  see.  Huh?" 

"Yes.  He  ought  to  be  along  now,"  replied 
Morrissy,  glancing  at  his  watch,  which  was  as 
conspicuous  as  his  yellow  diamonds. 

"How  you  getting  along  mit  der  poys  ?" 
"Oh,  we're  coming  along  fine,  all  right." 
"Going  to  call  'em  out  uf  der  mills  ?  Huh  ?" 
"Perhaps.   When  the  boss  comes,  tell  him  I'm 
up  stairs." 

Morrissy  lighted  a  cigar,  took  the  evening  pa 
pers  from  the  end  of  the  bar,  and  disappeared. 
Schmiick  could  hear  him  moving  the  chairs  about. 
Ten  minutes  later  McQuade  appeared.  Schmiick 
nodded  toward  the  stairs,  and  without  a  word 
McQuade  went  up. 

248 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"Good  evening,  Morrissy.  I  missed  a  car,  or 
I'd  have  been  here  earlier." 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  McQuade;  glad  to  wait 
for  you."  Morrissy  threw  aside  his  papers  and 
drew  his  chair  to  the  table. 

McQuade  closed  the  door  and  sat  down. 

"You  got  my  letter?"  he  began,  wiping  his 
forehead. 

Morrissy  nodded. 

"Well?" 

"Well,  the  boys  will  go  out  Monday  morning. 
A  committee  will  wait  on  Bennington  in  the 
morning.  He  won't  back  down  and  discharge 
the  English  inventor,  so  it's  a  sure  thing  they'll 
walk  out,  every  mother's  son  of  them." 

"On  the  morning  they  go  out,  I'll  send  you  my 
check  for  five  hundred." 

"For  the  union?" 

"I'll  send  it  to  you,  and  you  can  use  it  as  you 
see  fit.  On  Monday  morning,  then." 

"Sure  thing." 

They  smoked  for  a  while.  Suddenly  McQuade 
laid  a  bulky  envelope  on  the  table,  got  up  and 
went  out.  Morrissy  weighed  the  envelope  care 
fully,  thrust  it  into  his  pocket,  and  also  departed. 

"Five  hundred  now,  and  five  hundred  on  Mon- 
249 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

day.  I  can  see  him  sending  a  check.  It  will  be 
bills.  Bah!  I  should  have  called  out  the  boys 
anyhow." 

McQuade  hurried  home.  He  had  another  ap 
pointment,  vastly  more  important  than  the  one  he 
had  just  kept.  Bolles  had  returned  from  New 
York.  It  was  easy  enough  to  buy  a  labor  union, 
but  it  was  a  different  matter  to  ruin  a  man  of 
Warrington's  note.  Bolles  had  telegraphed  that 
he  would  be  in  Herculaneum  that  night.  That 
meant  that  he  had  found  something  worth  while. 
Each  time  the  car  stopped  to  let  passengers  on  or 
off,  McQuade  stirred  restlessly.  He  jumped  from 
the  car  when  it  reached  his  corner,  and  walked 
hurriedly  down  the  street  to  his  house,  a  big  pile 
of  red  granite  and  an  architectural  nightmare. 
He  rushed  up  the  steps  impatiently,  applied  his 
latch-key  and  pushed  in  the  door.  He  slammed 
it  and  went  directly  to  his  study.  Bolles  was 
asleep  in  a  chair.  McQuade  shook  him  roughly. 
Bolles  opened  his  eyes. 

"You've  been  on  a  drunk,"  said  McQuade, 
quickly  noting  the  puffed  eyes  and  haggard 
cheeks. 

"But  I've  got  what  I  went  after,  all  the  same/* 
replied  Bolles  truculently. 
250 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"What  have  you  got  ?  If  you've  done  any  fak 
ing,  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body." 

"Now,  look  here,  Mr.  McQuade ;  don't  talk  to 
me  like  that." 

"What  have  you  got,  then  ?" 

"Well,  I've  got  something  that's  worth  five 
hundred;  that's  what.  I  worked  like  a  nigger 
for  a  month;  pumped  everybody  that  ever  knew 
him.  Not  a  blame  thing,  till  night  before  last 
I  ran  into  the  janitor  of  the  apartments  where 
Warrington  lived." 

"Go  on." 

"He'd  been  fired,  and  I  got  him  drunk.  I 
asked  him  if  any  women  had  ever  gone  up  to 
Warrington's  rooms.  One.  He  was  sitting  in  the 
basement.  It  was  a  hot  night,  and  he  was  sitting 
up  because  he  could  not  sleep.  At  midnight  a 
coupe  drove  up,  and  Warrington  and  a  woman 
alighted.  From  the  looks  of  things  she  was 
drunk,  but  he  found  out  afterward  that  she  was 
very  sick.  The  woman  remained  in  Warrington's 
apartments  till  the  following  morning." 

"When  was  all  this?" 

"About  four  years  ago.     She  left  very  early." 

"Hell!"  roared  McQuade,  doubling  his  fists. 
"And  I've  been  sending  you  money  every  week 
251 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

for  such  news  as  this !  I  want  something  big,  you 
fool!  What  earthly  use  is  this  information  to 
me?  I  couldn't  frighten  Warring-ton  with  it." 

"I  haven't  told  you  the  woman's  name  yet," 
said  Bolles,  leering. 

"The  woman's  narre?  What's  that  got  to  do 
with  it?" 

"A  whole  lot.  It  v:as  Katherine  Challoner,  the 
actress,  Bennington's  wife;  that's  wl  o  it  was!" 

McQuade  sat  very  still.  So  still,  that  he  could 
hear  the  clock  ticking  in  the  parlor.  Benning 
ton's  wife ! 


252 


CHAPTER    XII 

The  death  of  his  aunt  gave  Warrington  a  long 
ing  for  action — swift  mental  and  physical  action. 
To  sit  in  that  dark,  empty  house,  to  read  or  to 
write,  was  utterly  impossible ;  nor  hacf  he  any  de 
sire  to  take  long  rides  into  the  country.  His  mind 
was  never  clearer  than  when  he  rode  alone,  and 
what  he  wanted  was  confusion,  noise,  excitement, 
struggle.  So  he  made  an  appointment  with  Senator 
Henderson  the  next  morning.  He  left  the  Ben- 
ningtons  with  the  promise  that  he  would  return 
that  evening  and  dine  with  them.  Warrington 
had  become  the  senator's  hobby;  he  was  going 
to  do  great  things  with  this  young  man's  future. 
He  would  some  day  make  an  ambassador  of  him ; 
it  would  be  a  pleasant  souvenir  of  his  old  age. 
Warrington  was  brilliant,  a  fine  linguist,  was  a 
born  diplomat,  iad  a  good  voice,  and  a  fund  of 
wit  and  repartee ;  nothing  more  was  required.  He 
would  give  the  name  Warrington  a  high  place  in 
the  diplomatic  history  of  the  United  States. 
Some  of  the  most  capable  diplomats  this  country 
had  produced  had  been  poets.  Warring-ton's  be- 
253 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

ing  a  playwright  would  add  luster  to  the  office. 
The  senator  was  going  over  these  things,  when  a 
clerk  announced  that  Mr.  \Varrington  was  wait 
ing  to  see  him. 

"Send  him  right  in." 

Immediately  Warrington  entered.  He  was 
simply  dressed  in  a  business  suit  of  dark  blue. 
He  wore  a  straw  hat  and  a  black  tie.  There  was 
no  broad  band  of  crape  on  his  hat  or  his  sleeve. 
He  had  the  poet's  horror  of  parading  grief,  sim 
ply  because  it  was  considered  fashionable  to  do 
so.  He  sincerely  believed  that  outward  mourning 
was  obsolete,  a  custom  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

"Ha !"  ejaculated  the  senator. 

"Good  morning.    How  goes  the  fight  ?" 

"Fine,  my  boy;  Til  land  you  there  next  week; 
you  see  if  I  don't.  The  main  obstacle  is  the  curi 
ous  attitude  of  the  press.  You  and  I  know  the 
reason  well  enough.  McQuade  is  back  of  this  in 
fluence.  But  the  voter  doesn't  know  this,  and  will 
accept  the  surface  indications  c.ily.  Now  you 
know  the  newspaper  fellows.  Why  not  drop 
around  to  the  offices  and  find  out  something  defi 
nite?" 

"It's  a  good  idea,  Senator.  I'll  do  it  this  very 
morning." 

254 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"Has  McQuade  any  personal  grudge  against 
you?" 

"Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"He's  a  bad  enemy,  and  often  a  downright  un 
scrupulous  one.  If  it's  only  politics,  I'll  have  a 
chat  with  him  myself.  You  pump  the  newspa 
pers.  You  leave  it  to  me  to  swing  the  boys  into 
line  at  the  convention." 

Then  they  proceeded  to  go  over  the  ground 
thoroughly.  Something  must  be  done  with  the 
newspapers.  The  delegates  and  minor  bosses  were 
already  grumbling.  Had  nothing  appeared  in 
the  newspapers,  Warrington's  nomination  would 
have  gone  through  without  even  minor  opposi 
tion.  But  the  Republican  machine  was  in  sore 
straits.  If  Donnelly  won  this  time,  it  would  mean 
years  of  Democratic  rule  in  an  essentially  Repub 
lican  town.  McQuade  must  be  broken,  his  strong 
barricades  toppled ;  and  now  that  there  would  be 
no  surprise  for  the  public,  the  majority  of  the 
delegates  began  to  look  doubtfully  upon  what  theyf 
called  the  senator's  coup.  They  wanted  the  City 
Hall,  and  they  did  not  care  how  they  got  there. 
Warrington  was  a  fine  chap,  and  all  that,  but  his 
acquaintanceship  was  limited.  He  could  not  go 
about  shaking  hands  like  Donnelly,  who  knew  ev- 
255 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

erybody,  high  and  low.  The  laboring  man  knew 
nothing  about  Warrington,  save  that  he  was  fa 
mous  for  writing  plays  they  had  not  seen,  nor 
would  have  understood  if  they  had.  Warrington 
was  a  "swell." ;  he  had  nothing  in  common  with 
the  man  who  carried  the  dinner-pail. 

"And  there  the  matter  stands,  my  boy,"  con 
cluded  the  senator,  shifting  his  cigar  from  one 
corner  of  his  mouth  to  the  other.  "If  I  can  swing 
the  convention  the  rest  will  be  plain  sailing,  once 
you  start  speech-making.  Oh,  McQuade  is  clever. 
He  knew  that  by  exposing  my  hand  he  would 
lessen  your  chances.  But  you  tackle  the  newspa 
pers  and  see  what  can  be  done.  And  good  luck 
to  you." 

McQuade  came  down  eany  mat  morning.  The 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  call  on  the  editor  of  the 
Times. 

"Here's   something,"  he   said,   tossing  a  few 
typewritten  pages  on  the  editor's  desk.     "This'll 
settle  Warrington's  hash,  Walford." 
,     "What  is  it?"  asked  Walford. 

"Read  it  and  see  for  yourself."  McQuade  sat 
down  and  picked  up  the  early  New  York  papers. 

Walford  read  slowly.     When  he  reached  the 
last  paragraph  he  returned  to  the  first  and  read 
256 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

the  article  through  again.  He  laid  it  down  and 
faced  his  employer. 

"Mr.  McQuade,  the  Call  and  the  Times  are  the 
only  papers  in  town  that  pay  dividends.  The 
Times  as  it  stands  to-day  is  a  good,  legitimate 
business  investment.  Do  you  want  the  circulation 
to  drop  ten  thousand  and  the  big  advertisers  to 
cancel  their  contracts?" 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  story?  Isn't  it  all 
right?" 

"Frankly,  it  isn't." 

"It's  true,"  said  McQuade,  his  fist  thudding 
on  the  desk;  "it's  true,  I  tell  you,  every  damned 
word  of  it." 

"The  truth  of  it  isn't  the  question.  It's  the 
advisability  of  publishing  it.  I  say  to  you  that 
if  you  insist  on  this  story's  publication,  you'll  kill 
the  Times  deader  than  a  door-nail.  I'll  call  the 
business  manager  in."  Walford  whistled  through 
a  tube,  and  shortly  after  the  business  manager 
appeared.  "Read  this,"  said  Walford  briefly, 
"and  give  Mr.  McQuade  your  honest  opinion  re 
garding  its  publication.  Mr.  McQuade  thinks  it 
ought  to  run  as  local  news." 

The  business  manager  read  it. 

"It  makes  good  reading,  Mr.  McQuade,  but  if 
257 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

you  want  to  kill  the  Times,  run  it.  There  are 
some  stories  that  can  only  be  rumored,  not  print 
ed,  and  this  is  one  of  them.  If  this  appears,  you 
have  my  word  that  every  decent  advertiser  will 
cancel  his  contract  forthwith." 

Walford  looked  at  his  employer  in  frank  tri 
umph.  McQuade  had  great  confidence  in  these 
two  men.  He  ripped  the  manuscript  into  squares 
and  filtered  them  through  his  fingers  into  the 
waste-basket. 

"You  boys  are  probably  right,"  he  said  reluct 
antly.  "I  have  no  desire  to  see  the  paper  lose  its 
sound  footing.  But  this  would  have  killed  the 
man  socially  and  politically,  so  far  as  this  town  is 
concerned." 

"Admitted,"  replied  Walford,  straightening 
out  some  proofs.  "But  we'll  topple  him  over  in 
a  legitimate  way." 

"Go  ahead,  then.  I'm  not  particular  how  it's 
done  so  long  as  you  do  it.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it's 
just  as  well.  I've  got  another  idea.  I  can  see 
that  I've  made  a  mistake." 

McQuade  started  down  the  stairs  to  the  street 

and  met  Warrington  coming  up.     The  two  men 

paused  tor  a  moment,  then  went  on.    Once  on  the 

sidewalk,  McQuade  turned  and  hesitated.     No, 

258 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

he  had  nothing  to  say  to  Mr.  Warrington.  He 
strode  down  the  street  toward  his  own  offices. 

It  will  be  seen  that  Warrington  had  gone  di 
rectly  into  the  enemy's  camp.  He  knew  Walford 
of  old;  they  were  tolerably  good  friends.  He 
gave  his  card  to  the  boy.  Walford,  on  reading  it, 
stuffed  several  newspapers  into  the  waste-basket 
and  pressed  his  foot  on  them.  He  was  a  bit 
shaken. 

"Send  him  in.  Hello,  Dick,"  he  said.  "How- 
are  you?  You're  the  last  man  I  expected  to  see 
this  morning.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"You  can  tell  your  political  reporter  and  your 
editorial  man  to  let  up  on  me  for  a  week,"  said 
Warrington  directly.  "What  the  devil  have  I 
done  to  you  chaps  that  you  should  light  into  me 
after  this  fashion  ?" 

"You  have  become  rich  and  famous,  Dick,  and 
mediocrity  can  stand  anything  but  that."  But 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  Walford's  eyes. 

"Come,  Wally,  you  know  that  isn't  the  truth." 

"Well,  if  you  want  the  truth  I'll  give  it  to  you. 
Answer  me  frankly  and  honestly,  do  you  consider 
that  you  have  any  moral  right  to  accept  a  nomina 
tion  for  the  mayoralty  of  Herculaneum  ?" 

"Moral  right.  I'll  pick  up  that  phrase  and 
259 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

carry  it  to  your  camp.  I  have  as  much  moral 
right  as  Donnelly,  who,  if  he  hasn't  been  caught, 
is  none  the  less  culpable  for  breaking  his  oath  of 
loyalty.  Ypu  know  this  as  well  as  I  do." 

Walford  eyed  the  waste-basket  thoughtfully. 

"Now,  we'll  turn  to  the  legal  side,"  continued 
Warrington.  "I  was  born  here;  I  cast  my  first 
vote  here;  for  several  years  I've  been  a  property 
owner  and  have  paid  my  taxes  without  lying  to 
the  tax-assessor.  It  is  notorious  that  Donnelly  is 
worth  half  a  million,  and  yet  he  is  assessed  upon 
a  house  worth  about  seven  thousand.  You  have 
called  me  a  meddler;  you  apply  the  term  every 
day.  Now  draw  the  distinction,  as  to  eligibility, 
between  Donnelly  and  myself." 

Walford  got  up  from  his  chair  and  closed  the 
door.  He  returned  and  sat  down  again. 

"Dick,  politics  is  politics,  and  its  ways  are 
dark  and  mysterious,  like  the  heathen  Chinee.  If 
I  had  your  talent — if  I  had  your  ability  to  earn 
money,  I'd  walk  out  of  this  office  this  moment. 
But  I  am  only  a  poor  devil  of  a  newspaper  man. 
I've  a  family.  When  I  was  twenty,  eighteen  years 
ago,  I  was  earning  twelve  a  week;  to-day  it  is 
forty;  when  I  am  sixty  it  will  return  to  twelve. 
You  know  the  business;  you  know  the  value 
260 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

they  set  on  a  man's  brains  in  this  city.  And 
there's  always  somebody  waiting  for  your  shoes. 
Now,  listen.  In  the  first  place  I  must  live,  and  as 
honorably  as  environment  permits  me.  By  con 
viction  I  am  a  Democrat;  I  believe  in  the  Demo 
cratic  principles.  Thus,  I  consider  it  my  duty  to 
thwart,  if  possible,  any  and  all  moves  the  Repub 
lican  party  makes.  I  recognize  your  strength, 
and  I  shall  do  what  I  can  from  my  side  of  the 
barricade  to  defeat  your  nomination  at  the  Repub 
lican  convention;  for  I  believe  you  able,  if  once 
nominated,  to  lead  your  party  to  success  and  vic 
tory.  But  I  shall  fight  you  honestly,  Dick.  In  all  I 
have  said  so  far,  there  has  been  no  innuendo ;  I've 
stood  out  in  the  open.  I  did  you  a  good  turn  this 
morning,  but  you  will  never  be  any  the  wiser. 
Personally,  I  like  you;  I  have  always  liked  you, 
and  I  am  glad  to  see  one  man  of  the  craft  rise 
above  the  grubs  and  earn  a  splendid  competence. 
It  hasn't  been  easy,  Dick ;  you've  had  to  fight  for 
it,  and  that's  what  I  admire.  You're  a  good,  clean 
fighter.  If  I  should  rebel  against  continuing  this 
attack  against  you,  the  attack  would  go  on,  but  I 
shouldn't.  That  would  do  neither  of  us  any  good. 
McQuade  might  find  a  man  with  less  scruples  than 
I  have.  And  that's  how  the  matter  stands,  Dick." 
261 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Weil,  you're  frank  and  honest  about  it,  and  I 
know  you  will  at  least  give  me  a  square  deal,  in 
the  event  of  my  nomination." 

"You  may  reckon  on  that.  Good  luck  to  you 
and  bad  luck  to  your  cause." 

They  talked  about  the  old  days  for  a  while,  and 
then  Warrington  departed  and  directed  his  steps 
to  the  office  of  the  Journal,  the  paper  in  which  he 
had  begun  his  career.  Oh,  here  they  were  willing 
to  do  anything  in  their  power  from  now  on.  If 
he  was  really  determined  to  accept  the  nomina 
tion,  they  would  aid  him  editorially.  That  even 
ing  the  editor  made  good  his  word,  frankly 
indorsing  Warrington  as  the  best  possible  choice 
for  Republican  nominee.  The  editor  explained  his 
former  attitude  by  setting  forth  his  belief  that 
Mr.  Warrington's  candidacy  was  not  serious.  At 
the  office  of  the  Telegraph  they  treated  him  cor 
dially  enough.  They  never  meddled  with  politics 
till  the  fight  was  on.  Then  they  picked  the  candi 
date  whose  views  most  coincided  with  their  own. 
If  Mr.  Warrington  was  nominated,  doubtless  they 
would  support  his  ticket.  The  general  manager 
had  been  a  classmate  of  Warrington's.  He  called 
on  him  and  explained  his  errand.  The  manager 
simply  wrote  on  a  pad:  "McQuade  owns  fifty- 
262 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

five  per  cent,  of  the  shares/'  held  it  under  War 
rington' s  nose  and  then  tore  it  up. 

"That's  where  pur  independence  stands  at  this 
moment." 

"I  had  heard  of  this,  but  didn't  quite  believe  it," 
Warrington  said.  Bill  Osborne  evidently  knew 
what  was  going  on,  then.  "I'm  sorry  to  have 
troubled  you." 

"None  at  all." 

On  the  street  Warrington  was  stopped  by  Ben 
Jordan,  the  Telegraph's  star  reporter,  who  had 
worked  with  Warrington  on  the  Journal, 

"Say,  Dick,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  was  going 
up  to  your  house  on  purpose  to  see  you.  Come 
over  to  Martin's  a  minute.  I've  got  some  news 
that  might  interest  you." 

"I  don't  like  Martin's  place,"  said  Warring- 
ton.  "Let's  compromise  on  Hanley's." 

"All  right,  my  boy." 

They  walked  down  to  Hanley's,  talking  ani 
matedly. 

"What  will  you  have,  Ben?" 

"Musty  ale." 

"Two  musty  ales,"  Warrington  ordered.  "Well, 
Ben?" 

Ben  took  a  deep  swallow  of  ale.  He  was  the 
263 


HALF    A    ROGUE 


best  all-round  reporter  in  the  city ;  he  knew  more 
people  than  Osborne  knew.  Murders,  strikes, 
fires,  they  were  all  the  same  to  Ben.  He  knew 
where  to  start  and  where  to  end.  The  city  editor 
never  sent  Ben  out  on  a  hunt  for  scandal ;  he  knew 
better  than  to  do  that.  Nine  times  out  of  ten,  the 
pther  papers  got  the  scandal  and  Ben's  behavior 
became  one.  The  labor  unions  were  Ben's  great 
stand-by.  On  dull  days  he  could  always  get  a 
story  from  the  unions.  He  attended  their  meet 
ings  religiously.  They  trusted  him  implicitly,  for 
Ben  never  broke  his  word  to  any  one  but  his  land 
lady.  He  was  short  and  wiry,  with  a  head  so 
large  as  to  be  almost  a  deformity.  On  top  of  this 
head  was  a  shock  of  brick-colored  hair  that  re 
sembled  a  street-cleaner's  broom.  And  Ben's 
heart  was  as  big  as  his  head.  His  generosity  was 
always  getting  him  into  financial  trouble. 

"Dick,  you're  a  friend  of  Bennington's.  You 
can  quietly  tip  him  that  his  men  will  go  out  Mon 
day  morning.  There's  only  one  thing  that  will 
avert  a  strike,  and  that's  the  discharge  of  the 
Englishman." 

"Bennington  will  never  discharge  him." 
"So  I  understand.    He'll  have  a  long  strike  on 
his  hands." 

264 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"Do  you  know  the  inside  ?" 

"Enough  to  say  that  the  men  will  go  out. 
They're  a  lot  of  sheep.  They've  an  idea  they've 
been  wronged.  But  you  can't  reason  with  them." 

"Ben,  you  go  up  to  the  shops  yourself  and  tell 
Bennington  what  you  know." 

"I  don't  know  him.    How'll  he  take  it  ?" 

"Tell  him  I  sent  you." 

"I'll  do  it,  Dick.  But  if  he  kicks  me  out,  the 
drinks  will  be  on  you.  What  countermove  will 
he  make  ?" 

"Better  ask  him  yourself.  But  if  you  have  any 
influence  among  the  unions,  tell  them  to  go  slow. 
They  haven't  sized  up  Bennington.  Wait  a  mo 
ment.  I'll  give  you  a  note  to  him."  He  called 
for  paper  and  envelopes,  and  wrote : 

DEAR  JOHN  : 

This  will  introduce  to  you  Mr.  Jordan,  a  reporter 
in  whom  I  have  the  greatest  confidence.  Whatever 
you  may  tell  him  you  may  rest  assured  that  he  will 
never  repeat.  I  am  sending  him  to  you  in  hopes  he 
may  suggest  some  plan  by  which  to  ward  off  the  im 
pending  strike.  There  may  be  a  little  self-interest  on 
my  side.  A  strike  just  now  will  raise  the  devil  in 
politics.  You  may  trust  Jordan  fully. 

WARRINGTON. 

He  pushed  it  across  the  table.  "There,  that 
will  smooth  the  way." 

265 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Many  thanks,  my  son.  Where's  he  eat  his 
lunch?" 

"Usually  in  the  office." 

"Well,  I'm  off!" 

Ben  always  had  his  eye  on  the  story  of  to-mor 
row,  and  he  would  face  all  or  any  difficulties  in 
pursuit  of  the  end.  If  he  could  stop  the  strike 
at  the  Bennington  shops  it  would  be  a  great  thing 
for  the  Telegraph  and  a  great  thing  for  Ben.  So 
he  hailed  a  car,  serenely  unconscious  that  he  was 
taking  a  position  absolutely  opposed  to  that  of  his 
employer.  He  arrived  at  the  shops  some  time  be 
fore  the  noon  hour.  His  letter  opened  all  doors. 
Bennington  was  in  his  private  office.  He  read  the 
letter  and  offered  Ben  a  chair. 

"I  have  never  been  interviewed,"  he  said. 

"I  am  not  here  for  an  interview,"  said  Ben. 
"Your  men  will  go  out  Monday." 

"Monday?    How  did  you  learn  that?" 

"My  business  takes  me  among  the  unions. 
What  shall  you  do  in  the  event  of  the  strike?" 

"And  I  have  no  desire  to  be  interviewed." 

"You  read  Mr.  Warrington's  letter.     Perhaps, 

if  I  knew  what  stand  you  will  take,  I  could  talk 

to  the  men  myself.    I  have  averted  three  or  four 

strikes  in  my  time,  simply  because  the  boys  know 

266 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

that  I  always  speak  the  truth,  the  plain  truth.  In 
this  case  I  feel  that  you  have  the  right  on  your 
side.  You  haven't  said  anything  yet.  The  union 
is  practically  trying  to  bluff  you  into  coming  to 
its  terms :  the  discharge  of  the  inventor,  or  a 
strike." 

"Are  you  representing  the  union?" 

"I  am  representing  nobody  but  myself." 

"I  may  tell  you,  then,  that  I  shall  not  discharge 
the  inventor.  Nor  will  I,  if  the  men  go  out,  take 
a  single  one  of  them  back." 

"The  men.  will  not  believe  that.  They  never 
do.  They've  been  so  successful  in  Pennsylvania 
that  they  are  attempting  to  repeat  that  success  all 
over  the  country.  They  have  grown  pig-headed. 
I  feel  sorry  for  the  poor  devils,  who  never  realize 
when  they  are  well  off." 

"I  feel  sorry,  too,  Mr.  Jordan,"  said  Benning- 
ton.  He  played  a  tattoo  on  his  strong  white  teeth 
with  his  pencil.  "Mr.  Warrington  seems  to  know 
you  well." 

"We  began  on  the  Journal  together.  You  will 
not  tell  me  what  your  plan  is,  then?" 

"I'd  rather  not,  for,  honestly,  I  can  not  see  how 
it  would  better  the  case." 

"It  might  be  worth  while  to  give  me  a  chance." 
267 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

,  Bennington  re-read  Warrington's  note.  Then 
he  studied  the  frank  blue  eyes  of  the  reporter. 

"Miss  Ward,  you  may  go,"  he  said  to  the  sten 
ographer.  "Now," — when  the  girl  had  gone, — 
"you  will  give  me  your  word  ?" 

"It's  all  I  have." 

"How  can  you  convince  the  men  without  tell 
ing  them  ?" 

"Oh,  I  meant  that  whatever  you  tell  me  shall 
not  see  light  in  the  papers  till  I  have  your  permis 
sion.  There's  a  weekly  meeting  to-night.  They 
will  decide  finally  at  this  meeting.  To-morrow 
will  be  too  late." 

Bennington  was  an  accurate  judge  of  men.  He 
felt  that  he  could  trust  this  shock-headed  journal 
ist.  If  without  any  loss  of  self-respect,  if  without 
receding  a  single  step  from  his  position,  he  could 
avert  the  crash,  he  would  gladly  do  so.  He  had 
reached  one  determination,  and  nothing  on  earth 
would  swerve  him.  So  he  told  Ben  just  exactly 
what  would  happen  if  the  men  went  out.  Ben 
'<  did  not  doubt  him  for  a  moment.  He,  too,  was 
something  of  a  judge  of  men.  This  man  would 
never  back  down. 

"I  give  you  this  to  show  them,  if  your  argu 
ments  do  not  prevail,"  concluded  Bennington, 
268 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

producing  a  folded  paper.  "They  will  hardly 
doubt  this." 

Ben  opened  it.  It  was  a  permit  from  the  mu 
nicipal  government  to  tear  down  a  brick  struc 
ture  within  the  city  limits.  Ben  stowed  the  per 
mit  in  his  pocket.  He  looked  with  admiration  at 
the  man  who  could  plan,  coolly  and  quietly,  the 
destruction  of  a  fortune  that  had  taken  a  quarter 
of  a  century  to  build.  He  was  grave.  There  was 
a  big  responsibility  pressing  on  his  shoulders. 

"Much  obliged.  You  will  never  regret  the  con 
fidence  you  repose  in  me.  Now  I'll  tell  you  some 
thing  on  my  side.  It  is  not  the  inventor,  though 
the  men  believe  it  is.  The  inventor  is  a  pretext  of 
Morrissy,  the  union  leader." 

"A  pretext?" 

"I  can't  prove  what  I  say,  that's  the  trouble; 
but  McQuade  has  his  hand  in  this.  I  wish  to 
Heaven  I  could  find  solid  proofs." 

"McQuade?"  Bennington  scowled.  He  could 
readily  understand  now.  McQuade!  This  was 
McQuade's  revenge.  He  could  wait  patiently  all 
this  while ! 

"I'll  do  what  I  can,  Mr.  Bennington;  I'll  do 
what  I  can." 

Bennington  ate  no  lunch  that  noon.  Instead, 
269 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

he  wandered  about  the  great  smoky  shops,  sweep 
ing  his  glance  over  the  blast-furnaces,  the  gutters 
into  which  the  molten  ore  was  poured,  the  giant 
trip-hammers,  the  ponderous  rolling-machines,  the 
gas-furnaces  for  tempering  fine  steel.  The  men 
moved  aside.  Only  here  and  there  a  man,  grown 
old  in  the  shops,  touched  his  grimy  cap.  .  .  . 
To  tear  it  down!  It  would  be  like  rending  a 
limb,  for  he  loved  every  brick  and  stone  and 
girder,  as  his  father  before  him  had  loved  them. 
He  squared  his  shoulders,  and  his  jaws  hardened. 
No  man,  without  justice  on  his  side,  should  dic 
tate  to  him ;  no  man  should  order  him  to  hire  this 
man  or  discharge  that  one.  He  alone  had  that 
right ;  he  alone  was  master.  Bennington  was  not 
a  coward ;  he  would  not  sell  to  another ;  he  would 
not  shirk  the  task  laid  out  for  his  hand.  Union 
ism,  such  as  it  stood,  must  receive  a  violent  les 
son.  And  McQuade? 

"Damn  him!"  he  muttered,  his  fingers  knot 
ting. 

Education  subdues  or  obliterates  the  best  of 
fighting  in  the  coward  only.  The  brave  man  is 
always  masculine  in  these  crises,  and  he  will  fight 
with  his  bare  hands  when  reason  and  intelligence 
fail.  A  great  longing  rose  up  in  Bennington's 
270 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

heart  to  have  it  out  physically  with  McQuade.  To 
feel  that  gross  bulk  under  his  knees,  to  sink  his 
fingers  into  that  brawny  throat ! — The  men,  eying 
him  covertly,  saw  his  arms  go  outward  and  his 
hands  open  and  shut  convulsively.  More  than  ever 
they  avoided  his  path.  Once  before  they  had  wit 
nessed  a  similar  abstraction.  They  had  seen  him 
fling  to  the  ground  a  huge  puddler  who  had 
struck  his  apprentice  without  cause.  The  puddier 
one  of  the  strongest  men  in  the  shops,  struggled 
to  his  feet  and  rushed  at  his  assailant.  Benning- 
ton  had  knocked  him  down  again,  and  this  time 
the  puddler  remained  on  the  ground,  insensible. 
Bennington  had  gone  back  to  his  office,  shutting 
and  opening  his  fists.  Ay,  they  had  long  since 
ceased  calling  him  the  dude.  The  man  of  brawn 
has  a  hearty  respect  for  spectacular  exhibitions 
of  strength. 

One  o'clock.  The  trip-hammers  began  their  in 
termittent  thunder,  the  rolling-machines  shrieked, 
and  the  hot  ore  sputtered  and  crackled.  Benning 
ton  returned  to  his  office  and  re-read  the  letter  his 
father  had  written  to  him  on  his  death-bed.  He 
would  obey  it  to  the  final  line. 

That   particular   branch    of  the  .local   unions 
271 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

which  was  represented  in  the  Bennington  steel- 
mills  met  in  the  loft  of  one  of  the  brick  buildings 
off  the  main  street.  The  room  was  spacious,  but 
ill  ventilated.  That  night  it  was  crowded.  The 
men  were  noisy,  and  a  haze  of  rank  tobacco- 
smoke  drifted  aimlessly  about,  vainly  seeking 
egress.  Morrissy  called  the  meeting  to  order 
at  eight-thirty.  He  spoke  briefly  of  the  injustice 
of  the  employers,  locally  and  elsewhere,  of  the 
burdens  the  laboring  man  had  always  borne  and 
•would  always  bear,  so  long  as  he  declined  to  de 
mand  his  rights.  The  men  cheered  him.  Many 
had  been  drinking  freely.  Morrissy  stated  the 
case  against  Bennington.  He  used  his  words 
adroitly  and  spoke  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  re 
grets  exceedingly  a  disagreeable  duty. 

From  his  seat  in  the  rear  Jordan  watched  him, 
following  each  word  closely.  He  saw  that  Mor 
rissy  knew  his  business  thoroughly. 

"We'll  get  what  we  want,  men ;  we  always  do. 
It  isn't  a  matter  of  money ;  it's  principle.  If  we 
back  down,  we  are  lost;  if  we  surrender  this  time, 
we'll  have  to  surrender  one  thing  at  a  time  till 
we're  away  back  where  we  started  from,  slaves  to 
enrich  the  oppressor.  We've  got  to  fight  for  our 
rights.  Here's  an  inventor  who,  if  we  permit  him 
272 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

to  remain,  will  succeed  in  throwing  two  hundred 
men  out  of  work.  Bennington  is  making  enough 
money  as  things  are  now.  There's  no  need  of  im 
provement,  such  as  will  take  bread  and  butter  out 
of  our  mouths,  out  of  the  mouths  of  our  wives 
and  children.  We've  got  to  strike.  That'll  bring 
him  to  his  senses." 

At  the  conclusion  he  was  loudly  applauded. 

Jordan  stood  up  and  waited  till  the  noise  had 
fully  subsided.  Everybody  knew  him.  They  had 
seen  him  stand  up  before,  and  he  always  said 
something  worth  listening  to. 

"You  all  know  me,  boys,"  he  began. 

"You  bet!" 

"You're  all  right!" 

"Speech!    Go  ahead!" 

Jordan  caught  Morrissy's  eye.  Morrissy  nod- 
cled  with  bad  grace.  Jordan  spoke  for  half  an 
hour.  He  repeated  word  for  word  what  Benning 
ton  had  told  him.  In  the  end  he  was  greeted 
with  laughter. 

"Very  well,  boys,"  he  said,  shrugging.  "It's 
none  of  my  business.  You've  never  caught  me 
lying  yet.  You  don't  know  this  man  Benning 
ton.  I  believe  I  do.  He'll  make  good  his  threat. 
tWait  and  see." 

273 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"How  much  were  you  paid  to  attend  this  meet 
ing?"  demanded  Morrissy,  sneering. 

"A  good  deal  less  than  you  were,  Mr.  Mor 
rissy."  There  was  a  dangerous  flush  on  Ben's 
cheeks,  but  the  smoke  was  so  dense  that  Morrissy 
failed  to  observe  it.  The  men  laughed  again,  ac 
cepting  Ben's  retort  as  a  piece  of  banter.  Ben 
went  on  doggedly:  "I  have  in  my  pocket  a  per 
mit  to  tear  down  the  shops.  Bennington  gave  it 
to  me  to  produce.  Look  at  it,  if  you  doubt  my 
word.  There  it  is." 

The  men  passed  it  along  the  aisles.  It  came 
back  presently,  much  the  worse  for  the  wear. 
Some  of  the  older  men  looked  exceedingly  grave, 
but  they  were  in  the  minority. 

"Anybody  can  get  a  permit  to  tear  down  his 
property,"  said  Morrissy  scornfully.  "It's  a  big 
bluff,  men.  What !  tear  down  the  golden  goose  ? 
Not  in  a  thousand  years !  It's  a  plain  bluff.  And 
I'm  sorry  to  see  a  decent  man  like  our  newspaper 
friend  on  the  enemy's  side." 

"If  I  am  on  the  enemy's  side,  Mr.  Morrissy,  it's 
because  I'm  a  friend  of  every  man  here,  save 
one,"  significantly.  "You  men  will  vote  a  strike. 
I  can  see  that.  But  you'll  regret  it  to  your  last 
day.  I've  nothing  more  to  say.  I  helped  you 
274 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

once  when  old  man  Bennington  was  alive,  but  I 
guess  you've  forgotten  it."  Ben  sat  down  in  si 
lence. 

"We'll  proceed  with  tlie  voting,"  said  Mor- 
rissy. 

Half  an  hour  later  there  was  a  cheer.  The 
men  would  go  out  Monday,  if  the  demands  of  the 
committee  were  not  acceded  to.  The  meeting 
broke  up,  and  many  of  the  men  flocked  into  the 
near-by  saloons.  Morrissy  approached  Ben,  who 
had  waited  for  him.  No  one  was  within  ear 
shot. 

"What  the  hell  do  you  mean  by  saying  you 
were  paid  less  than  I  was?"  he  said,  his  jaw  pro 
truding  at  an  ugly  angle. 

"I  mean,  Morrissy,"  answered  Ben  fearlessly, 
"that  you  had  better  move  carefully  in  the  future. 
If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  accept  any  unstamped 
envelopes  in  Herculaneum.  It  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  go  to  some  other  town  for  that." 

"Why,  damn  you !"  Morrissy  raised  his  fist. 

"Stay  where  you  are,"  warned  Ben,  seizing  a 
camp-chair,  "or  I'll  break  your  head.  Listen  to 
me.  I'm  starting  out  from  this  night  on  to  break 
you,  and,  by  God,  I'll  do  it  before  the  year  is  over. 
This  is  your  last  strike,  so  make  the  most  of  it. 
275 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

You  were  at  Schmiick's  the  other  night,  you  and 
McQuade.  There  was  a  friend  of  mine  on  the 
other  side  of  the  partition.  Unfortunately  this 
friend  was  alone.  I  haven't  got  any  proofs,  but 
I'll  get  them." 

Morrissy  became  yellower  than  his  diamonds. 
Ben  flung  aside  his  chair  and  left  the  hall.  He 
went  straight  to  Martin's  saloon.  He  found  Bill 
Osborne  alone  at  a  table. 

"Will  they  strike,  Ben?"  he  asked  in  a  rough 
whisper. 

"Yes.  I  thought  I  might  influence  them,  Bill, 
but  I've  only  made  an  ass  of  myself.  Two  whis 
kies,"  he  ordered,  "and  make  one  of  them  stiff.  I 
told  Morrissy." 

"You  didn't  mention  my  name,  Ben?  Don't 
say  you  told  him  that  I  was  on  the  other  side  of 
the  partition !"  Bill's  eyes  nearly  stood  out  of  his 
head. 

"I  told  him  nothing.  How'd  you  happen  to 
land  in  Schmiick's  saloon,  anyhow  ?  Why  didn't 
you  telephone  me  when  you  heard  Morrissy  come 
in?" 

"Oh,  Ben,  I  was  drunk!  If  I  hadn't  been  so 
drunk !"  Bill's  eyes  overflowed  remorsefully. 

Ben  swore. 

276 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"And  say,  Ben,  that  fellow  Bolles  is  back  in 
town.  He  was  in  here  a  few  minutes  ago,  drunk 
as  a  lord.  He  flashed  a  roll  of  bills  that  would 
have  choked  an  ox." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Up  stairs  playing  the  wheel." 

Ben  shook  his  head.  He  had  his  salary  in  his 
pocket,  and  he  vividly  remembered  what  roulette 
had  done  to  it  a  fortnight  gone. 

"If  Bolles  is  drunk,  it  wouldn't  do  any  good  to 
talk  to  him."  Ben  sighed  and  drank  his  liquor 
neat.  He  was  tired. 


277 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Regularly  once  a  week  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene 
visited  a  hair-dresser.  This  distinguished  social 
leader  employed  a  French  maid  who  was  very 
adept  at  dressing  hair,  but  the  two  never  got 
along  very  well  verbally;  Mrs.  Franklyn-Hal 
dene  insisted  on  speaking  in  broken  French  while 
the  maid  persisted  in  broken  English.  Such  con 
versation  is  naturally  disjointed  and  leads  no 
where.  The  particular  hair-dresser  who  received 
Mrs.  Haldene's  patronage  possessed  a  lively  im 
agination  together  with  an  endless  chain  of  gos 
sip.  Mrs.  Haldene  was  superior  to  gossiping 
with  servants,  but  a  hair-dresser  is  a  little  closer 
in  relation  to  life.  Many  visited  her  in  the  course 
of  a  week,  and  some  had  the  happy  faculty  of  re 
lieving  their  minds  of  what  they  saw  and  heard, 
regardless  of  the  social  status  of  the  listener. 
Mrs.  Haldene  never  came  away  from  the  hair 
dresser's  empty-handed ;  in  fact,  she  carried  away 
with  her  food  for  thought  that  took  fully  a  week 
to  digest. 

278 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Like  most  places  of  its  kind,  the  establishment 
was  located  in  the  boarding-house  district;  but 
this  did  not  prevent  fashionable  carriages  from 
stopping  at  the  door,  nor  the  neighboring  board 
ers  from  sitting  on  their  front  steps  and  speculat 
ing  as  to  whom  this  or  that  carriage  belonged. 
There  was  always  a  maid  on  guard  in  the  hall; 
she  was  very  haughty  and  proportionately  home 
ly.  It  did  not  occur  to  the  proprietress  that  this 
maid  was  a  living  advertisement  of  her  incompe 
tence  to  perform  those  wonders  stated  in  the 
neat  little  pamphlets  piled  on  the  card-table;  nor 
did  it  impress  the  patrons,  who  took  it  for  granted 
that  the  maid,  naturally  enough,  could  not  afford 
to  have  the  operation  of  beauty  performed. 

A  woman  with  wrinkles  is  always  hopeful. 

A  strange  medley  of  persons  visited  this  house, 
each  seeking  in  her  own  peculiar  way  the  elixir  of 
life,  which  is  beauty,  or  the  potion  of  love,  which 
is  beauty's  handmaiden.  There  were  remedies 
plus  remedies ;  the  same  skin-food  was  warranted 
to  create  double-chins  or  destroy  them ;  the  same 
tonic  killed  superfluous  hair  or  made  it  grow  on 
bald  spots.  A  freckle  to  eradicate,  a  wrinkle  to 
remove,  a  moth-patch  to  bleach,  a  grey  hair  to 
dye ;  nothing  was  impossible  here,  not  even  credu- 
279 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

lity.  It  was  but  meet  that  the  mistress  should 
steal  past  the  servant,  that  the  servant  should 
dodge  the  mistress.  Every  woman  craves  beauty, 
but  she  does  not  want  the  public  to  know  that  her 
beauty  is  of  the  kind  in  which  nature  has  no  hand. 
No  man  is  a  hero  to  his  valet;  no  woman  is  a 
beauty  to  her  maid.  In  and  out,  to  and  fro;  the 
social  leader,  the  shop-girl,  the  maid,  the  woman 
of  the  town,  the  actress,  the  thin  old  spinster  and 
the  fat  matron,  here  might  they  be  found. 

At  rare  intervals  a  man  was  seen  to  ring  the 
bell,  but  he  was  either  a  bill-collector  or  a  husband 
in  search  of  his  wife. 

The  proprietress  knew  everybody  intimately — 
by  sight.  She  was  squat,  dyed,  rouged  and  pen 
ciled,  badly,  too.  She  was  written  down  in  the 
city  directory  as  Madame  de  Chevreuse,  but  she 
was  emphatically  not  of  French  extraction.  In 
her  alphabet  there  were  generally  but  twenty-five 
letters;  there  were  frequent  times  when  she  had 
no  idea  that  there  existed  such  a  letter  as  "g." 
How  she  came  to  appropriate  so  distinguished  a 
name  as  De  Chevreuse  was  a  puzzle.  Her  hus 
band — for  she  had  a  husband — was  always  read 
ing  French  history  in  English,  and  doubtless  this 
name  appealed  to  his  imagination  and  romance. 
280 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

Nobody  knew  what  Madame's  real  name  was, 
nor  that  of  her  husband,  for  he  was  always  called 
"Monseer." 

The  reception-room  was  decorated  after  the 
prevailing  fashion.  There  was  gilt  and  pretense. 
There  were  numerous  glass  cases,  filled  with  lo 
tions  and  skin- foods  and  other  articles  of  toilet; 
there  were  faceless  heads  adorned  with  all  shades 
of  hair,  scalps,  pompadours,  and  wigs.  A  few 
false-faces  grinned  or  scowled  or  smirked  from 
frames  or  corners  where  they  were  piled.  There 
were  tawdry  masquerade  costumes,  too,  and  the 
atrical  make-up.  Curtains  divided  the  several 
shampooing  booths,  and  a  screen  cut  off  the  gen 
eral  view  of  the  operation  of  beauty.  However, 
there  were  chinks  large  enough  for  the  inquisi 
tive,  and  everybody  was  inquisitive  who  patron 
ized  Madame  de  Chevreuse,  pronounced  Chev- 
roose. 

And  always  and  ever  there  prevailed  without 
regeneration  the  odor  of  cheap  perfumes  and 
scented  soaps. 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  left  her  carriage  at  the 

door,    perfectly   willing   that   the   neighborhood 

should  see  her  alight.     She  climbed  the  steps, 

stately  and  imposing.     She  was  one  of  the  few: 

281 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

women  who  could  overawe  the  homely  girl  in  the 
hallway. 

"Is  Madame  at  liberty  ?" 

"She  will  be  shortly,  Mrs.  Haldene." 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  passed  into  the  recep 
tion-room  and  sat  down  by  the  manicure  table. 
The  screen  was  in  position.  Some  one  was  being 
beautified.  From  time  to  time  she  heard  voices. 

"The  make-up  is  taking  splendidly  to-day." 

"Well,  it  didn't  last  week.  I  sweat  pink  beads 
all  over  my  new  muslin." 

"It  does  peel  in  hot  weather.  I  understand  that 
Mrs.  Wei  ford  is  going  to  Dakota." 

"He  ought  to  have  the  first  chance  there,  if 
what  I've  heard  about  her  is  true.  These  society 
women  make  me  tired." 

"They  haven't  much  to  occupy  their  time." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  They  occupy  their  time  in 
running  around  after  the  other  women's  hus 
bands." 

"And  the  husbands?" 

"The  other  men's  wives." 

"You  aren't  very  charitable." 

"Nobody's  ever  given  me  any  charity,  I'm 
sure." 

From  one  of  the  shampooing  booths : 
282 


"But  you  would  look  very  well  in  the  natural 
grey,  ma'am." 

"My  husband  doesn't  think  so." 

"But  his  hair  is  grey." 

"That  doesn't  lessen  his  regard  for  brunettes." 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  shrugged  her  majestic 
shoulders  and  gazed  again  into  the  street.  She 
always  regretted  that  Madame  could  not  be  in 
duced  to  make  private  visits. 

A  white  poodle,  recently  shampooed,  dashed 
through  the  rooms.  There  is  always  a  watery- 
eyed,  red-lidded  poodle  in  an  establishment  of  this 
order.  The  masculine  contempt  for  the  pug  has 
died.  It  took  twenty  years  to  accomplish  these 
obsequies.  But  the  poodle,  the  poor  poodle !  Call 
a  man  a  thief,  a  wretch,  a  villain,  and  he  will  de 
fend  himself;  but  call  him  a  poodle,  and  he 
slinks  out  of  sight.  It  is  impossible  to  explain 
definitely  the  cause  of  this  supreme  contempt  for 
the  poodle,  nor  why  it  should  be  considered  the 
epitome  of  opprobrium  to  be  called  one. 

"Maime?" 

"Yes,  Madame!"  replied  the  girl  in  the  hall. 

"Take  Beauty  into  the  kitchen  and  close  the 
door.     He's  just  been  washed,  and  I  don't  want 
him  all  speckled  up  with  hair-dye," 
283 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

The  girl  drove  the  poodle  out  of  the  reception- 
room  and  caught  him  in  the  hall.  Presently  the 
kitchen  door  slammed  and  the  odor  of  onions  in 
soup  no  longer  fought  against  the  perfumes  and 
soaps  for  supremacy. 

"There,"  said  Madame  behind  the  screen,  "you 
have  no  rival  in  town  now  for  beauty." 

"I'll  be  here  again  next  Tuesday." 

"Same  time?" 

"Yes,  in  the  morning." 

A  woman  emerged  from  behind  the  screen. 
She  possessed  a  bold  beauty,  the  sort  that  appeals 
to  men  without  intellect.  She  was  dressed  extrav 
agantly:  too  many  furbelows,  too  many  jewels, 
too  many  flowers.  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  rec 
ognized  her  instantly  and  turned  her  head  toward 
the  window.  She  heard  the  woman  pass  by  her, 
enter  the  hall  and  leave  the  house.  She  saw  her 
walk  quickly  away,  stop  suddenly  as  if  she  had 
forgotten  something,  open  her  large  purse,  turn 
its  contents  inside  out,  replace  them,  and  pro 
ceed.  But  a  letter  lay  on  the  sidewalk  unnoticed. 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  secretly  hoped  that  it 
would  remain  there  till  she  made  her  departure. 

"Handsome  woman,  isn't  she?"  said  Madame. 
284 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  they  are  always  good- 
looking." 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene, 
who  knew  very  well  who  the  woman  was. 

"She  is  one  of  Mr.  McQuade's  lady  friends." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes-."  Madame  was  shrewd.  She  saw  that 
it  wouldn't  do  to  tell  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  any 
thing  about  a  woman  who  could  in  no  way  be  of 
use  to  her.  "Have  you  heard  of  the  Sybil?" 

"The  Sybil?"  repeated  Mrs.  Franklyn-Hal 
dene. 

"Yes.  A  new  fortune-teller,  and  everybody 
says  she's  a  wonder.  I  haven't  been  to  her  yet, 
but  I'm  goin'  just  as  soon  as  I  get  time." 

"Do  you  believe  they  know  what  they  are  talk 
ing  about?"  incredulously. 

"Know !    I  should  say  I  did.  Old  Mother  Dan- 
forth  has  told  me  lots  of  things  that  have  come 
true.    She  was  the  one  who  predicted  the  Spanish 
war  and  the  president's  assassination.    It  is  mar-/ 
velous,  but  she  done  it." 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  shuddered.  With  all 
her  faults,  she  loved  the  English  language. 

"How  do  you  want  your  hair  fixed  ?"  Madame 
285 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

inquired,  seeing  that  her  patron's  interest  in  me 
diums  was  not  strong. 

"The  same  as  usual.  Last  week  you  left  a 
streak,  and  I  am  sure  everybody  noticed  it  at  the 
Gordon  tea.  Be  careful  to-day." 

Thereupon  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  constituted 
herself  a  martyr  to  the  cause.  She  was  nervous 
and  fidgety  in  the  chair,  for  the  picture  of  that 
letter  on  the  sidewalk  kept  recurring.  In  the 
meantime  Madame  told  her  all  that  had  happened 
and  all  that  hadn't,  which  is  equally  valuable. 
The  toilet  lasted  an  hour;  and  when  Mrs.  Frank 
lyn-Haldene  rose  from  the  chair,  Madame  was  as 
dry  as  a  brook  in  August.  Her  patron  hurried  to 
the  street.  The  letter  was  still  on  the  sidewalk. 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  picked  it  up  and  quickly 
sought  her  carriage.  Pah!  how  the  thing  smelt 
of  sachet-powder.  Her  aristocratic  nose  wrinkled 
in  disdain.  But  her  curiosity  surmounted  her 
natural  repugnance.  The  address  was  written  in 
a  coarse  masculine  hand.  The  carriage  had  gone 
two  blocks  before  she  found  the  necessary  cour 
age  to  open  the  letter.  The  envelope  had  already 
been  opened,  so  in  reading  it  her  conscience  sug 
gested  nothing  criminal. 

Gossip  began  on  the  day  Eve  entered  the  Gar- 
286 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

den  of  Eden.  To  be  sure,  there  was  little  to  gossip 
about,  but  that  little  Eve  managed  without  diffi 
culty  to  collect.  It  is  but  human  to  take  a  harmless 
interest  in  what  our  next-door  neighbor  is  doing, 
has  done,  or  may  do.  Primarily  gossip  was 
harmless ;  to-day  it  is  still  harmless  in  some  quar 
ters.  The  gossip  of  the  present  time  is  like  the 
prude,  always  looking  for  the  worst  and  finding 
it.  The  real  trouble  with  the  gossip  lies  in  the 
fact  that  she  has  little  else  to  do ;  her  own  affairs 
are  so  uninteresting  that  she  is  perforce  obliged 
to  look  into  the  affairs  of  her  neighbors.  Then, 
to  prove  that  she  is  well  informed,  she  feels  com 
pelled  to  repeat  what  she  has  seen  or  heard,  more 
or  less  accurately.  From  gossiping  to  meddling 
is  but  a  trifling  step.  To  back  up  a  bit  of  gossip, 
one  often  meddles.  Mrs.  Franklyri-Haldene  was 
naturally  a  daughter  of  Eve ;  she  was  more  than 
a  gossip,  she  was  a  prophetess.  She  foretold 
scandal.  She  would  move  Heaven  and  earth,  so 
the  saying  goes,  to  prove  her  gossip  infallible. 
And  when  some  prophecy  of  hers  went  wrong, 
she  did  everything  in  her  power  to  right  it.  To 
have  acquired  the  reputation  of  prophesying  is 
one  thing,  always  to  fulfil  these  prophecies  is  an 
other.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  de- 
287 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

stroying  other  people's  peace  of  mind,  that  she 
was  constituting  herself  a  Fate,  that  she  was  med 
dling  with  lives  which  in  no  wise  crossed  or  inter 
fered  with  her  own.  She  had  no  real  enmity 
either  for  Warrington  or  Mrs.  Jack;  simply,  she 
had  prophesied  that  Warrington  had  taken  up  his 
residence  in  Herculaneum  in  order  to  be  near 
Katherine  Challoner,  John  Bennington's  wife. 
Here  was  a  year  nearly  gone,  and  the  smoke  of 
the  prophecy  had  evaporated,  showing  that  there 
had  been  no  fire  below. 

Neither  Warrington  nor  Mrs.  Jack  was  in  her 
thoughts  when  she  opened  the  letter,  which  was 
signed  by  McQuade's  familiar  appellation. 

DEAR  GIRL — I've  got  them  all  this  trip.  I'll  put 
Bennington  on  the  rack  and  wring  Warrington's 
political  neck,  the  snob,  swelling  it  around  among 
decent  people !  What  do  you  think  ?  Why,  War 
rington  used  to  run  after  the  Challoner  woman  be 
fore  she  was  married ;  and  I  have  proof  that  she 
went  to  Warrington's  room  one  night  and  never 
left  till  morning.  How's  that  sound?  They  stick 
up  their  noses  at  you,  do  they  ?  Wait !  They  won't 
look  so  swell  when  I'm  through  with  them.  If 
Warrington's  name  is  even  mentioned  at  the  Repub 
lican  convention,  I've  missed  my  guess.  I  got  your 
bills  this  morning.  You'd  better  go  light  till  I've 
settled  with  these  meddlers.  Then  we'll  pack  up  our 
duds  and  take  that  trip  to  Paris  I  promised  you. 

MAC. 
288 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  shivered.  How  hor 
ribly  vulgar !  She  felt  polluted  for  a  moment,  and 
half  wished  she  had  let  the  missive  lie  where  it 
had  fallen.  But  this  sense  of  disgust  wore  off 
directly.  She  had  been  right,  then;  there  was 
something  wrong;  it  was  her  duty,  her  duty  to 
society,  to  see  that  this  thing  went  no  further. 
And  that  flirtation  between  Patty  and  the  drama 
tist  must  be  brought  to  a  sudden  halt.  How? 
Ah,  she  would  now  find  the  means.  He  was 
merely  hoodwinking  Patty;  it  was  a  trick  to  be 
near  Mrs.  Jack.  She  had  ignored  her,  had  she? 
She  had  always  scorned  to  listen  to  the  truth 
about  people,  had  she?  And  well  she  might! 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene's  lips  tightened.  Those 
friends  of  hers  who  had  doubted  would  presently 
doubt  no  more.  She  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  how 
McOuade  would  use  his  information;  she  didn't 
even  care,  so  long  as  he  used  it.  She  grew  indig 
nant.  The  idea  of  that  woman's  posing  as  she  did ! 
The  idea  of  her  dreaming  to  hold  permanently 
the  footing  she  had  gained  in  society!  It  was 
nothing  short  of  monstrous.  The  ever-small  voice 
of  conscience  spoke,  but  she  refused  to  listen.  She 
did  not  ask  herself  if  what  McQuade  had  in  his 
possession  was  absolute  truth.  Humanity  believes 
289 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

most  what  it  most  desires  to  believe.  And  aside 
from  all  this,  it  was  a  triumph,  a  vindication  of  her 
foresight. 

"To  the  Western  Union,"  she  called  to  the 
groom.  When  the  carriage  drew  up  before  the 
telegraph  office,  she  gave  the  letter  to  the  groom. 
"I  found  this  on  the  sidewalk.  Have  them  re 
turn  it  to  the  owner  by  messenger."  This  was 
done.  "Now,  home,"  she  ordered. 

That  afternoon  she  attended  a  large  reception. 
Her  bland  smile  was  as  bland  as  ever,  but  her  eyes 
shone  with  suppressed  excitement.  The  Benning- 
tons  were  there,  but  there  was  only  a  frigid  nod 
when  she  encountered  Mrs.  Jack  and  Patty.  She 
wondered  that  she  nodded  at  all.  She  took  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Fairchilds,  into  a  corner.  She  simply 
had  to  tell  some  one  of  her  discovery,  or  at  least 
a  hint  of  it. 

"Do  you  recollect  what  I  told  you  ?" 

"About — ?"  Mrs.  Fairchilds  glanced  quickly 
at  Mrs.  Jack. 

"Yes.  Every  word  was  true,  and  there  will 
be  a  great  upheaval  shortly.  But  not  a  word  to 
a  soul.  I  never  gossip,  but  in  this  instance  I  feel 
it  my  duty  to  warn  you.  How  and  where  I 
learned  the  truth  is  immaterial.  I  have  learned 
290 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

it,  and  that  is  sufficient.  It  is  frightful ;  it  makes 
my  blood  boil  when  I  think  of  it.  And  she  goes 
everywhere,  as  if  she  had  a  perfect  right." 

"What  have  you  found  ?"  Mrs.  Fairchilds  could 
scarcely  breathe,  so  great  was  her  curiosity. 

"You  will  learn  soon  enough  without  my  tell 
ing  you."  And  that  was  all  Mrs.  Franklyn-Hal- 
dene  would  say. 

But  it  was  enough,  enough  for  her  purpose. 
Within  an  hour's  time  all  the  old  doubt  had  been 
stirred  into  life  again,  and  the  meddlers  gathered 
about  for  the  feast.  It  is  all  so  simple  and  easy. 

Mrs.  Jack  moved  here  and  there,  serenely  beau 
tiful,  serenely  happy,  serenely  unconscious  of  the 
blow  that  was  soon  to  strike  at  the  very  heart  of 
her  life.  Once  in  a  while  her  brows  would  draw 
together  abstractedly.  She  was  thinking  of  John, 
and  of  the  heartaches  he  was  having  over  the  ac 
tion  of  the  men  at  the  shops. 

Patty  was  not  gay.  She  seemed  to  be  impa 
tient  to  leave.  Three  or  four  times  she  asked 
Mrs.  Jack  if  she  were  ready  to  go ;  she  was  tired, 
the  people  bored  her,  she  wanted  to  go  home. 
Finally  Mrs.  Jack  surrendered. 

That  night  at  dinner  John  was  very  quiet  and 
absent-minded.  The  shops,  the  shops,  he  was 
291 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

thinking  of  them  continuously.  In  his  heart  of 
hearts  he  had  no  faith  in  the  reporter's  influence. 
The  strike  mania  had  seized  the  men,  and  nothing 
now  could  hold  them  back.  He  knew  they  would 
doubt  his  threat  to  tear  down  the  buildings.  Not 
till  he  sent  the  builder's  wrecking  crew  would  they 
understand.  Not  a  hair's  breadth,  not  the  fraction 
of  an  inch;  if  they  struck,  it  would  be  the  end. 
He  gazed  at  his  wife,  the  melting  lights  of  love  in 
his  handsome  eyes.  Hey-dey!  She  would  al 
ways  be  with  him,  and  together  they  would  go 
about  the  great  world  and  forget  the  injustice  and 
ingratitude  of  men.  But  it  was  going  to  be  hard. 
Strong  men  must  have  something  to  lay  their 
hands  to.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  remain  idle 
very  long;  he  must  be  doing  something.  But  out 
of  the  shops  he  felt  that  he  would  be  like  a  ship 
without  steering  apparatus — lost,  aimless,  pur 
poseless. 

"John?" 

He  woke  from  his  dream,  and  forced  a  smile 
to  his  lips. 

"You  haven't  eaten  anything." 

"I'm  not  hungry,  dear." 

"You  haven't  spoken  half  a  dozen  words  since 
you  came  home." 

292 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Haven't  I  ?    I  must  have  been  thinking." 

"About  the  shops  ?"  laying  her  hand  on  his  and 
pressing  it  strongly. 

"Yes.  I'm  afraid,  heart  o'  mine,  that  it's  all 
over.  If  they  do  not  strike  now,  they  will  later 
on ;  if  not  on  this  pretext,  on  some  other." 

"Why  not  let  him  go,  John?" 

"No."  His  jaws  hardened.  "It  isn't  a  question 
of  his  going  or  staying;  it  is  simply  a  question 
of  who  is  master,  the  employed  or  the  em 
ployer.  The  men  say  it's  the  principle  of  the 
thing;  it  shall  be  fought  out  on  those  grounds. 
I'm  going  down  to  the  club  to-night  with  Dick. 
I  feel  the  need  of  getting  out  and  breathing. 
Dick's  not  the  best  company  just  now,  but  he'll 
understand  what  I  need.  Poor  devil !  he's  got  his 
hands  full,  too." 

She  understood  his  mood,  and  offered  no  pb- 
jection.  She  raised  his  hand  and  brushed  it  with 
her  lips. 

"I  love  you,  John." 

He  smiled  gratefully. 

"You  go  over  to  mother's  for  the  evening,  and 
I'll  drop  in  on  the  way  home  and  pick  you  up." 

Patty  was  in  the  music-room,  so  Mrs.  Jack  did 
293 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

not  disturb  her,  but  started  at  her  basket-work. 
Mrs.  Bennington  read  till  eight,  and  retired. 
Patty  played  all  the  melancholy  music  she  could 
think  of.  When  love  first  makes  its  entrance  into 
the  human  heart,  there  is  neither  joy  nor  gladness 
nor  gaiety.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  a  vast 
shadow  of  melancholy,  a  painful  sadness,  doubt 
and  cross-purpose,  boldness  at  one  moment  and 
timidity  at  the  next,  a  longing  for  solitude.  Mu 
sic  and  painting  and  poetry,  these  arts  that  only 
attracted,  now  engage. 

So  Patty  played. 

Sometimes  Mrs.  Jack  looked  up  from  her  work, 
wondering.  She  had  never  heard  Patty  play  so 
many  haunting,  dismal  compositions.  At  nine 
the  telephone  rang,  and  she  dropped  her  work  in 
stantly,  thinking  the  call  might  be  from  John. 
Ah,  if  the  men  would  only  listen  to  reason ! 

"Hello!" 

"Is  Mrs.  Bennington  at  home?"  asked  a  voice, 
unfamiliar  to  her  ears. 

"There  are  two.    Which  one  do  you  wish?" 

"Mrs.  John  Bennington." 

"This  is  Mrs.  John  Bennington  speaking. 
What  is  it?" 

There  was  a  pause. 

294 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"I  have  something  very  important  to  commu 
nicate  to  you.  In  the  first  place,  you  must  use 
your  influence  in  making  Mr.  Warrington  with 
draw  his  name  as  a  candidate  for  nomination." 

"Who  is  this  speaking  ?"  she  asked  sharply. 
.    "Mr.  McQuade." 

The  receiver  nearly  fell  from  her  hand.  Mc 
Quade  ?  What  in  the  world — 

"Did  you  get  the  name?" 

"Yes.  But  I  fail  to  understand  what  you  are 
talking  about.  I  warn  you  that  I  shall  ring  off 
immediately." 

"One  moment,  please.  If  you  hang  up  the  re 
ceiver,  you  will  regret  it.  I  wish  you  no  ill,  Mrs. 
Bennington.  If  it  were  possible  I  should  like  to 
talk  with  you  personally,  for  this  matter  deeply 
concerns  your  future  happiness.  I  can  not  call; 
I  have  been  ordered  out  of  your  husband's  house. 
It  lies  in  your  power  to  influence  Warrington  to 
drop  his  political  ambition.  Information  has 
come  to  my  hand  that  would  not  look  very  well 
in  the  newspapers.  It  is  in  my  power  to  stop  it, 
but  I  promise  not  to  lift  a  hand  if  you  refuse." 

"I  not  only  refuse,  but  I  promise  to  repeat  your 
conversation   to   my  husband   this   very  night.'* 
With  that  Mrs.  Jack  hung  up  the  receiver.     She 
295 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

rose,  pale  and  terribly  incensed.  The  low  fellow ! 
How  dared  he,  how  dared  he!  "Patty!"  The 
call  brooked  no  dallying. 

The  music  ceased.    Patty  came  out,  blinking. 

"You  called  me,  Kate?" 

"Patty,  McQuade  has  been  calling  me  up  on 
the  telephone." 

"Who?" 

"McQuade,  McQuade!  He  says  that  if  I  do 
not  influence  Mr.  Warrington  to  withdraw  his 
name —  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  thing? 
I  am  furious !  What  can  it  mean  ?  He  says  he 
has  heard  something  about  me  which  he  can  sup 
press  but  will  not  if  I —  Why,  Patty,  what  shall 
I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?"  She  crushed  her  hands 
together  wildly. 

"Tell  John,"  said  Patty  sensibly. 

"John  ?  He  would  thresh  McQuade  within  an 
inch  of  his  life." 

"Tell  Warrington,  then." 

"He  would  do  the  same  as  John.  But  what 
can  the  wretch  have  found  ?  God  knows,  Patty, 
I  have  always  been  a  good,  true  woman.  .  .  . 
Think  of  that  man's  telephoning  me !" 

Patty  ran  to  her  side  and  flung  her  arms  about 
her  brother's  wife.    Patty  loved  her. 
296 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Don't  you  bother  your  head,  darling.  It  can't 
be  anything  but  a  political  dodge ;  it  can't  be  any 
thing  serious.  McQuade  is  low  enough  to 
frighten  women,  but  don't  let  him  frighten  you. 
I  know  he  lies,"  said  the  loyal  Patty.  "And 
now  that  I  think  it  over,  it  would  be  best  to  say 
nothing  to  John  or  Richard.  Fisticuffs  would  get 
into  the  papers,  and  it's  my  opinion  that's  just 
what  this  man  McQuade  wants.  He  could  swear 
to  a  thousand  lies,  if  the  matter  became  public. 
But  oh!"  clenching  her  hands  fiercely,  "I'd  give 
a  year  of  my  life  to  see  John  thresh  him.  But 
you  say  nothing;  let  us  wait  and  see." 

Wise  Patty ! 

At  that  very  moment  McQuade  sat  swinging  in 
his  swivel-chair.  There  was  a  smile  of  satisfac 
tion  on  his  face. 

"That'll  bring  'em,"  he  said  aloud,  though  he 
was  alone.  "That'll  bring  'em  both  up  here,  roar 
ing  like  lions.  They'll  muss  up  the  furniture,  and 
then  I  can  tell  the  reporters  all  about  it.  Even 
Walford  can't  object  this  time." 

He  rubbed  his  hands  together  like  Shylock  at 

the  thought  of  his  pound  of  flesh.    He  had  waited 

a  long  time.     They  had  ordered  him,  McQuade, 

who  held  the  city  in  his  hand — they  had  or- 

297 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

dered  him  out  of  the  house.  Not  a  grain  of 
mercy,  not  half  a  grain.  Two  birds  with  one 
stone.  He  was  shrewd  for  all  his  illiteracy.  He 
knew  women  passably  well.  This  one  would  tell 
her  husband,  who  would  seek  for  immediate  ven 
geance. 

But  sometimes  chance  overthrows  the  best-laid 
plans  of  cleverness  and  foresight.  And  this  re 
markable  plan  of  McQuade's  was  deranged  by  a 
chance  guess  by  Patty. 

Meantime  at  Martin's  it  was  growing  lively. 
The  bar  was  crowded,  the  restaurant  was  being 
liberally  patronized,  and  persons  went  up  the 
stairs  that  did  not  return.  Jordan  paid  the  check, 
and  he  and  Osborne  went  out. 

"When'll  they  go  out,  Ben  ?" 

"Monday." 

"Too  bad.    I  wish  I'd  been  sober." 

"I'll  break  Morrissy's  head  one  of  these  fine 
days.  Let's  go  over  to  Johnny's;  there's  music 
over  there." 

"All  right,  Ben." 

"And  no  more  booze,  mind." 

"Just  as  you  say." 

Up  stairs  the  gambling-den  was  doing  a  good 
business.  The  annual  trotting  meet  had  brought 
298 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

many  sporting  men  to  town.  They  were  standing 
around  the  faro  table;  the  two  roulette  wheels 
were  going,  and  the  Klondike  machine  spun 
ceaselessly.  There  were  a  dozen  stacks  of  chips 
in  front  of  Bolles.  He  was  smiling,  flushed  with 
triumph  and  whisky. 

"Three  hundred  to  the  good,  old  boy !"  he  said 
to  the  man  who  spun  the  ivory  ball.  "I'll  break 
you  fellows  to-night." 

"Bring  Mr.  Bolles  another  whisky,"  said  the 
proprietor. 

"I'll  take  all  you  can  bring." 

"You're  a  tank,,  sure." 

"You  bet !"  Bolles  grinned. 

So  did  the  banker,  covertly.  He  had  seen  the 
comedy  played  a  thousand  times.  Few  men  ever 
took  away  their  winnings,  once  they  started  in  to 
drink,  and  Bolles  was  already  drunk.  He  lost  his 
next  bet.  He  doubled  and  lost  again.  Then  he 
stacked  his  favorite  number.  The  ball  rolled  into 
it,  but  jumped  the  compartment,  wizard-wise,  and 
dropped  into  single-o.  Bolles  cursed  the  luck. 
Another  whisky  was  placed  at  his  elbow.  He 
drank  it  at  a  gulp. 

"Make  the  limit  five,"  he  cried. 

The  banker  nodded  to  the  man  at  the  wheel. 
299 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Bolles  made  six  bets.  He  lost  them.  A  quarter  of 
an  hour  later  his  entire  winnings  had  passed  over 
the  table.  He  swore,  and  drew  out  a  roll  of  bills. 
He  threw  a  fifty  on  the  black.  Red  won.  He 
doubled  on  black.  Red  won.  He  plunged.  He 
could  not  win  a  single  bet.  He  tried  numbers, 
odd  and  even,  the  dozens,  splits,  squares,  column. 
Fortune  had  withdrawn  her  favor. 

"Hell!" 

He  played  his  last  ten  on  black,  and  lost. 

"Let  me  have  a  hundred." 

The  banker  shook  his  head  and  pointed  to  the 
signs  on  the  wall :  "Checks  for  money,  money  for 
checks,  no  mouth-bets." 

Bolles  felt  in  his  pockets  and  repeated  the  futile 
search. 

"Not  a  damned  cent!"  he  shouted.  "Cleaned 
out!" 

"Give  Mr.  Bolles  a  ten-spot,"  said  the  banker. 
"But  you  can't  play  it  here,  Bolles,"  was  the 
warning. 

Bolles  stuffed  the  note  in  his  pocket  and  rose. 
He  was  very  drunk;  he  himself  did  not  realize 
how  drunk  he  was  till  he  started  for  the  door. 
He  staggered  and  lurched  against  the  sideboard. 
His  hat  rolled  from  his  head.  An  attendant 
300 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

quickly  recovered  it,  and  Bolles  slapped  it  on  his 
head. 

"Get  out  o'  the  way!  It's  a  snide  game,  any- 
,  how.  You've  got  wires  on  the  machine.  You've 
got  seven  hundred  o'  my  money,  and  you  give  me 
ten!  Hell!" 

They  opened  the  door  for  him  and  he  stumbled 
out  into  the  dark,  unlighted  hallway.  He  leaned 
against  the  wall,  trying  to  think  it  out,  searching 
his  pockets  again  and  again.  Why  in  hell  hadn't 
he  left  some  of  the  money  with  the  bartender? 
Broke,  clean,  flat  broke !  And  he  had  pushed  his 
winnings  up  to  three  hundred !  He  became  ugly, 
now  that  he  fully  realized  what  had  happened. 
He  ground  his  teeth  and  cursed  loudly;  he  even 
kicked  the  door  savagely.  Then  he  swung  rather 
than  walked  down  the  stairs.  He  turned  into  the 
bar  and  bought  three  more  whiskies,  and  was 
then  primed  for  any  deviltry.  He  was  very  drunk, 
but  it  was  a  wide-awake  drunkenness,  cruel  and 
revengeful.  He  turned  into  the  alley  and  tried  to 
think  of  some  plan  by  which  he  could  borrow 
enough  to  make  a  new  attempt  at  fickle  fortune. 
To-morrow  he  could  strike  McQuade  again,  but 
to-night  McQuade  wouldn't  listen  to  him.  Every 
once  in  a  while  he  would  renew  the  searching  of 
301 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

his  pockets,  but  there  was  only  the  remainder  of 
the  ten  the  banker  had  given  him. 

John  and  Warrington  had  played  an  uninter 
esting  game  of  billiards  at  the  club,  then  finally 
sought  the  night  and  tramped  idly  about  the 
streets.  With  Warrington  it  was  sometimes  his 
aunt,  sometimes  the  new  life  that  beat  in  his  heart 
when  he  saw  Patty,  sometimes  this  game  he  was 
playing  which  had  begun  in  jest  and  had  turned  to 
earnest.  With  John  it  was  the  shops,  the  shops,  al 
ways  and  ever  the  shops.  When  they  spoke  it  was 
in  monosyllables.  Nevertheless  it  was  restful  to 
each  of  them  to  be  so  well  understood  that  verbal 
expression  was  not  necessary.  They  had  started 
toward  Martin's  on  the  way  home,  when  War 
rington  discovered  that  he  was  out  of  cigars.  He 
ran  back  three  or  four  doors  while  John  proceed 
ed  slowly.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  cross  the  alley 
way  a  man  suddenly  lurched  out  into  the  light. 
He  was  drunk,  but  not  the  maudlin,  helpless  in 
toxication  that  seeks  and  invites  sociability.  He 
was  murderously  drunk,  strong,  nervous,  excited. 
He  barred  Bennington's  way. 

"I  thought  it  was  you !"  he  said  venomously. 

Bennington  drew  back  and  started  to  pass 
around  the  man.  He  did  not  recognize  him.  He 
302 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

saw  in  the  action  only  a  man  disorderly  drunk. 
But  he  hadn't  taken  two  steps  before  the  other's 
words  stopped  him  abruptly. 

"You're  a  millionaire,  eh?  Well,  I'll  soon  fix 
you  and  your  actress  and  her  lover.  Take  that  as 
a  starter !" 

He  struck  Bennington  savagely  on  the  cheek 
bone.  Bennington  stumbled  back,  but  managed 
to  save  himself  from  falling.  Instantly  all  the 
war  that  was  in  his  soul  saw  an  outlet.  He 
came  back,  swift  as  a  panther  and  as  powerful. 
In  an  instant  his  assailant  was  on  his  back  on  the 
pavement,  the  strong  fingers  tightening  about  the 
wretch's  throat.  Boiles  was  a  powerful  man,  but 
he  had  not  the  slightest  chance.  Not  a  sound 
from  either  man.  There  were  one  or  two  pedes 
trians  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  but  either 
these  did  not  see  or  would  not. 

Warrington  had  made  a  hurried  purchase.  As 
he  left  the  cigar  store,  he  saw  the  two  men  fall. 
He  ran  up  quickly,  wondering  what  the  trouble 
was.  He  had  no  idea  that  John  was  one  of  the 
men,  but  as  he  saw  the  light  grey  suit,  and  the 
Panama  lying  on  the  ground,  he  knew. 

"For  God's  sake,  John,  what  are  you  doing?" 
he  cried. 

303 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

With  a  superhuman  effort  he  dragged  the  en 
raged  man  from  the  prostrate  form  in  the  road. 
It  no  longer  struggled,  but  lay  inert  and  without 
motion. 

"Was  I  killing  him,  Dick?"  said  John,  in  a 
quavering  voice.  "He  struck  me  and —  Am  I 
mad,  or  has  the  world  turned  upside  down  in  a 
minute?" 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Warrington.  He 
was  badly  frightened.  He  knelt  at  the  side  of 
Bolles  and  felt  of  his  heart.  It  still  beat. 

"What  did  he  say?  Nothing,  nothing! — 
Where's  my  hat?  I'm  going  home —  Have  I — ?" 

"No,  he's  alive;  but  I  came  just  in  time." 

At  this  moment  Bolles  turned  over  and  slowly 
struggled  to  a  sitting  posture.  His  hands  went 
feebly  toward  his  throat. 

"He's  all  right,"  said  Warrington.  "We'd  bet 
ter  light  out.  Now  what  the  devil — " 

"He  struck  me.  He  was  drunk.  I've  been  in  a 
fighting  mood  all  day.  Call  that  carriage." 

When  Mrs.  Jack  saw  him  she  screamed. 

"John!" 

"The  asphalt  was  wet,  girl,  and  I  took  a  bad 
fall."  But  John  lied  with  ill  grace. 


304 


CHAPTER    XIV 

The  Bennington  mills,  or  shops,  were  situated 
just  inside  the  city  limits.  Beyond  was  a  beautiful 
undulating  country  of  pastures  and  wheat-fields, 
dotted  frequently  with  fine  country  homes.  The 
mills  were  somewhat  isolated  from  the  general 
manufacturing  settlement,  but  had  spurs  of  track 
that  for  practical  purposes  were  much  nearer  the 
main  line  of  freight  traffic  than  any  of  those  man 
ufacturing  concerns  which  posed  as  its  rivals.  It 
was  a  great  quadrangle  of  brick,  partly  surround 
ed  by  a  prison-like  wall.  Within  this  v/all  was  a 
court,  usually  piled  high  with  coke  and  coal  and 
useless  molds.  The  building  was,  by  turns,  called 
foundry,  mills  and  shops.  The  men  who  toiled 
there  called  it  the  shops.  Day  and  night,  night  and 
day,  there  was  clangor  and  rumbling  and  roaring 
and  flashes  of  intense  light.  In  the  daytime  great 
volumes  of  smoke  poured  from  the  towering  chim 
neys,  and  at  night  flames  shot  up  to  the  very  walls 
of  heaven,  burnishing  the  clouds. 

The  elder  Bennington  was  one  of  those  men 
305 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

who,  with  a  firm  standing  on  the  present,  lay  ad 
mirable  plans  for  the  future.  He  had  been  in  no 
great  hurry  to  get  rich.  He  went  leisurely  about 
it,  tantalizing  fortune,  it  might  be  said.  His  first 
venture  had  shown  foresight.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  Civil  War  he  had  secured  an  option  on  many 
thousand  tons  of  coal.  Without  taking  an  actual 
penny  from  his  pockets,  he  had  netted  a  comfort 
able  fortune.  Again,  his  foresight  recognized  that 
the  day  would  come  when  the  whole  continent 
would  gird  itself  in  steel.  With  his  ready  money 
he  bought  ground  and  built  a  small  mill.  This 
prospered.  He  borrowed  from  the  banks,  and 
went  on  building.  Ten  years  passed.  The  prop 
erty  was  unencumbered ;  he  had  paid  both  interest 
and  principal.  He  did  not  believe  in  stock-holders. 
He  sold  no  stock.  Every  nail,  bolt  and  screw  was 
his ;  every  brick,  stone  and  beam.  There  were  no 
directors  to  meddle  with  his  plans,  no  fool's  hand 
to  block  his  progress,  to  thwart  his  vast  projects. 
Slowly  he  became  rich,  for  every  piece  of  steel 
that  went  out  to  the  purchasers  was  honest  steel. 
Sagacity  and  loyalty  overcame  all  obstacles.  Many 
a  time  he  might  have  sold  at  a  handsome  profit. 
But  selling  wasn't  his  idea ;  he  had  a  son.  Besides, 
this  was  his  life-work,  and  he  detested  the  idle 
306 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

rich,  which  at  that  time  were  just  coming  into 
evidence. 

He  never  speculated ;  but  he  bought  government 
bonds,  railroad  bonds,  municipal  bonds,  for  he  had 
great  faith  in  his  country.  He  had  the  same  faith 
in  his  native  city,  too,  for  he  secured  all  the  bank 
stock  that  came  his  way.  Out  of  every  ten  dollars 
he  earned  he  invested  five,  saved  three,  and  spent 
two.  He  lived  well,  but  not  ostentatiously.  He 
never  gave  directly  to  charities,  but  he  gave  work 
to  hundreds,  and  made  men  self-reliant  and  inde 
pendent,  which  is  a  far  nobler  charity.  He  never 
denied  himself  a  vacation ;  he  believed  that  no  man 
should  live  and  die  at  his  desk.  There  was  plenty 
of  time  for  work  and  plenty  for  play ;  but  neither 
interfered  with  the  other.  He  was  an  ardent  fish 
erman,  a  keen  hunter,  and  a  lover  of  horses. 

More  than  all  these  things,  he  was  one  of  those 
rare  individuals  one  seldom  meets — the  born 
father.  He  made  a  man  of  his  son  and  a  woman 
of  his  daughter.  When  he  sent  the  boy  to  Eng 
land,  he  knew  that  the  boy  might  change  his 
clothes,  but  neither  his  character  nor  his  patriot 
ism.  He  voted  independently;  he  was  never  a 
party  man ;  thus,  public  office  was  never  thrust  in 
his  way.  Perhaps  he  was  too  frankly  honest.  He 
307 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

never  worried  when  his  son  reached  the  mating 
age.  "Whoever  my  boy  marries  will  be  the  woman 
he  loves,  and  he  is  too  much  his  father's  son  not  to 
love  among  his  equals."  He  was  a  college-bred 
man  besides,  but  few  knew  this.  He  had  an  eye 
for  paintings,  an  ear  for  music,  and  a  heart  for  a 
good  book.  It  is  this  kind  of  man  whom  nature 
allows  to  be  reproduced  in  his  children. 

He  was  gruff,  but  this  gruffness  was  simply  a 
mask  to  keep  at  arm's  length  those  persons  whom 
he  did  not  desire  for  friends. 

When  he  died  he  left  a  will  that  was  a  model  of 
its  kind.  There  were  not  a  hundred  lines  in  the 
document.  He  divided  his  fortune  into  three  parts, 
but  he  turned  the  shops  over  to  his  son  John,  with 
out  stipulations,  wholly  and  absolutely,  to  do  with 
them  as  he  pleased.  But  he  had  written  a  letter  in 
which  he  had  set  forth  his  desires.  It  may  be 
understood  at  once  that  these  desires  readily  co 
incided  with  those  of  the  son. 

John  had  not  begun  in  the  office.  On  the  con 
trary,  during  school  vacations  he  worked  as  a 
puddler's  apprentice,  as  a  molder's  apprentice,  in 
the  rail-shop,  in  the  sheet-  and  wire-shops.  He 
worked  with  his  hands,  too,  and  drew  his  envelope 
on  Saturday  nights  like  the  rest  of  them.  There 
308 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

was  never  any  talk  about  John's  joining  the  union ; 
the  men  looked  upon  his  efforts  good-naturedly 
and  as  a  joke.  The  father,  with  wisdom  always  at 
his  elbow,  never  let  the  fishing  trips  go  by.  John 
had  his  play.  At  the  age  of  twenty  he  knew  as 
much  about  the  manufacture  of  steel  as  the  next 
one.  He  loved  the  night  shifts,  when  the  whole 
place  seethed  and  glowed  like  an  inferno.  This 
manual  education  had  done  something  else,  too. 
It  had  broadened  his  shoulders,  deepened  his 
chest,  and  flattened  his  back.  Many  a  time  the  old 
man  used  to  steal  out  and  watch  the  young  Her 
cules,  stripped  to  the  waist,  drag  rails  to  the  cool 
ing-room.  When  John  entered  college  athletics 
he  was  not  closely  confined  to  the  training-tables. 

Under  the  guidance  of  such  a  father,  then,  there 
could  not  be  as  a  result  anything  less  than  a  thor 
ough  man. 

On  the  following  Monday  morning  succeeding 
the  encounter  with  Bolles,  John  boarded  a  car  and 
went  out  to  the  shops  as  usual.  He  found  nothing 
changed.  The  clerks  in  the  office  were  busy  with 
huge  ledgers,  though  it  is  true  that  many  a  hand 
was  less  firm  than  on  ordinary  days.  Rumors  were 
flying  about,  from  clerk  to  clerk,  but  none  knew 
what  the  boss  intended  to  do.  From  the  shops 
309 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

themselves  came  the  roaring  and  hammering  that 
had  gone  on  these  thirty  years  or  more.  Benning- 
ton  opened  his  mail  and  read  each  letter  carefully. 
There  were  orders  for  rails,  wire  rope  and  sheets 
for  boilers.  The  business  of  the  concern  always 
passed  through  his  hands  first.  Even  when  he  was 
out  of  town,  duplicates  of  all  orders  were  sent  to 
him.  He  laid  each  letter  in  the  flat  basket ;  but  this 
morning  there  was  no  "O.  K. — J.  B."  scrawled 
across  the  tops.  There  would  be  time  enough  for 
that  later.  He  rose  and  went  to  the  window  and 
looked  down  into  the  court.  His  heart  beat  heav 
ily.  There  was  something  besides  the  possibility 
of  a  strike  on  his  mind.  But  he  flung  this  thought 
aside  and  returned  to  the  strike.  Was  it  right  or 
was  it  wrong?  Should  he  follow  out  his  father's 
request,  letter  for  letter?  To  punish  two  or  three 
who  were  guilty,  would  it  be  right  to  punish  sev 
eral  hundred  who  were  not  ?  And  those  clerks  and 
assistants  yonder,  upon  whom  families  depended, 
who  had  nothing  to  do  with  unionism,  one  way  or 
the  other,  what  about  them?  Fate  strikes  blindly; 
the  innocent  fall  with  the  guilty.  The  analysis 
of  his  own  desires  was  quick  enough.  Surrender  ?t 
Not  much!  Not  an  inch,  not  a  tenth  part  of  an 
inch,  would  he  move.  If  men  permitted  themselves 
310 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

to  be  sheep  in  the  hands  of  an  unscrupulous  man, 
so  much  the  worse.  He  promised  himself  this 
much  :  all  those  who  appealed  to  him  honestly,  for 
these  he  would  find  employment  elsewhere.  There 
were  other  mills  and  shops  in  town  that  would  be 
glad  enough  to  employ  a  Bennington  man,  which 
signified  capability. 

"Mr.  Bennington?" 

John  turned.  Chittenden,  the  young  English 
inventor,  stood  respectfully  just  within  the  door. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Chittenden.  How's  the 
invention  going?  Did  you  get  that  special  pulley 
from  Pittsburgh  yet?" 

"The  invention  is  going  very  well,  sir.  But  it  is 
not  of  that  I  wish  to  speak." 

"Have  you  joined  the  union,  then?"  asked  Ben 
nington,  with  a  shade  of  irony  which  did  not 
escape  the  keen-eyed  Englishman. 

"No !"  This  was  not  spoken ;  it  was  more  like  a 
shout.  "I  have  joined  no  union,  and  my  brain  may 
rot  before  I  do.  The  truth  is,  sir,  I  hear  that  if 
the  men  go  out  you'll  tear  down  the  shops."  He 
hesitated. 

"Go  on." 

"Well,  I  do  not  want  this  to  happen  on  my  ac 
count  I  am  young;  I  can  wait;  I'll  take  my  tink- 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

ering  elsewhere.    You've  been  very  good  to  me, 
sir,  and  I  should  hate  to  see  you  troubled." 

"Chittenden,  you  can't  leave  me  now.  If  you 
do,  I  shall  never  forgive  you.  You  are  a  valuable 
piece  of  property  just  now.  You  are  to  be  my  test 
case,  as  the  lawyers  say.  If  you  go  now  the  men 
will  think  I  weakened  and  forced  you  out.  You 
gave  me  your  word  that  you  would  stay  here  till 
/  told  you  to  go.'* 

"There's  nothing  more  to  be  said,  sir.  You  may 
depend  upon  me." 

"Thanks.  The  day  you  perfect  your  machine, 
on  that  day  I  shall  find  the  capital  to  promote  it. 
Good  morning." 

"The  committee  was  coming  up  after  me,  sir," 
was  the  reply. 

"Ah!"  Bennington's  eyes  flashed.  "Then  re 
main  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  them." 

All  this  while  the  girl  at  the  typewriter  never 
paused.  Clickity-click !  clickity-click !  Suddenly 
all  noises  ceased,  all  but  the  noise  of  the  type 
writer.  The  two  men  looked  at  each  other  quickly 
and  comprehensively.  There  was  a  tramping  of 
feet  on  the  stairs,  and  presently  a  knock  on  the 
door.  Clickity-click! 

"You  may  go,"  said  Bennington  to  the  girl. 
312 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

The  girl  gathered  up  her  notes  and  passed  into 
the  main  office. 

Again  came  the  knock,  more  aggressive  this 
time. 

"Come  in." 

The  committee,  headed  by  Morrissy,  entered 
with  shuffling  feet.  Morrissy  saw  the  Englishman 
and  scowled. 

"Well,  gentlemen  ?"  said  Bennington,  sitting  on 
his  desk  and  resting  a  foot  on  his  chair. 

"We  have  come  to  learn  what  you  intend  to  do 
about  this  Britisher,"  began  Morrissy. 

"I  don't  recollect  your  face,"  replied  Benning 
ton  thoughtfully.  "How  long  have  you  been  in 
the  shops  ?" 

"I'm  not  in  your  shops,"  returned  Morrissy 
blusteringly. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Bennington  mildly,  "there's 
the  door.  I  do  not  see  how  this  matter  concerns 
you." 

"Well,  it  does  concern  me,  as  you'll  find  soon," 
cried  Morrissy,  choking  with  sudden  rage. 

"I'll  give  you  one  minute  to  make  the  foot  of 
the  stairs.   If  you're  not  there  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  I'll  take  you  by  the  collar  and  help  you." 
Bennington  drew  out  his  watch. 
313 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"He's  the  head  of  our  union,  Mr.  Bennington," 
interposed  one  of  the  men,  shifting  his  feet  un 
easily. 

"Oh !  Then  he's  the  man  who  is  really  making 
all  this  trouble  ?"  Bennington  nodded  as  if  he  had 
just  arrived  at  a  solution. 

"I'm  here  to  see  that  my  men  have  their  rights." 
Morrissy  failed  to  understand  this  mild  young 
man.  "And  it'll  take  a  bigger  man  than  you  to 
throw  me  out  of  here.  This  Britisher  either  joins 
the  union  or  he  goes." 

"If  he  joins  the  union  he'll  be  permitted  to  con 
tinue  the  perfecting  of  his  invention  ?" 

"His  invention  is  not  necessary  at  present.  The 
output  as  it  is  meets  the  demand." 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Morrissy,  I'll  make  you  a 
proposition." 

"What?" 

"You  and  I  will  go  down  to  the  molding-room 
and  have  it  out  with  our  fists.  If  you  win,  Chitten- 
den  goes;  if  I  win,  he  stays  and  the  men  return 
to  work." 

"This  isn't  no  kid's  play,  Mr.  Bennington. 
You've  got  a  big  strike  looking  you  in  the  face." 

Bennington  laughed.  "I'm  afraid  you're  a  cow 
ard.  So  Mr.  Chittenden  must  join  the  union  or  go. 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

It  isn't  a  question  of  wage  scale  or  hours ;  it  simply 
revolves  around  Mr.  Chittenden.  Supposing  he 
joins  the  union,  what  will  you  give  him  to  do?" 
Bennington's  voice  was  that  of  a  man  who  wishes 
to  know  all  sides  of  the  question. 

"Well,  he'll  have  to  learn  where  they  all  started 
from." 

"Mr.  Chittenden  is  an  expjrt  machinist." 

"Let  him  join  the  union,  then,  and  there  won't 
be  any  trouble  here.  I  want  justice.  This  shop  is 
union,  and  no  non-union  man  can  work  here.  I 
want  justice,  that's  all." 

"You'll  get  that  all  in  good  time,  Mr. — ah — ?" 

"Morrissy." 

"Mr.  Morrissy.  Mr.  Chittenden,  are  you  will 
ing  to  join  the  union?"  Bennington  smiled  as  he 
plied  this  question. 

"Not  I !  My  word,  I'd  as  lief  starve  as  become 
a  union  man,  and  under  such  a  master.  I  prize  my 
manhood  and  independence  above  all  things.  I 
have  already  refused  to  join.  I  never  take  back 
what  I  say." 

"Neither  do  I,  Mr.  Chittenden."  Bennington 
stood  up. 

"Then  out  he  goes,"  said  Morrissy,  recovering 
his  truculence. 

315 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"On  what  authority?''  Bennington's  voice  was 
growing  milder  and  milder.  "On  what  author 
ity  ?"  he  repeated. 

"On  mine !"  cried  Morrissy. 

"You  are  mistaken.  I  am  master  here.  Mr. 
Chittenden  will  remain  on  the  pay-roll." 

"Then  in  ten  minutes  the  men  will  walk  out  on 
my  orders.  You're  making  a  big  mistake,  Mr. 
Bennington." 

"That  is  for  me  to  judge." 

"Ten  minutes  to  make  up  your  mind."  Mor 
rissy  made  a  gesture  toward  his  watch. 

"Don't  bother  about  the  time,  Mr.  Morrissy. 
We'll  spend  the  ten  minutes  in  the  molding-room." 

Morrissy  turned  pale. 

"Oh,  we  shan't  come  to  fisticuffs,  Mr.  Mor 
rissy.  I  am  a  gentleman,  and  you  are  not.  Not  a 
word !"  as  Morrissy  clenched  his  fists.  "Mr.  Ship 
ley,"  said  Bennington  to  one  of  the  committee, 
"will  you  get  all  the  men  together  ?  I  have  a  few 
words  to  say  to  them  before  this  ten  minutes  is 
up.  I  want  to  give  the  men  a  fair  show." 

"You  can  have  twenty  minutes,  my  English- 
bred  gentleman,"  snarled  Morrissy.  At  that  mo 
ment  he  would  have  given  a  thousand  dollars  for 
the  strength  to  whip  the  man  whose  ruin  he  be- 
316 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

lieved  he  was  planning.  "I'm  kind  of  anxious  my 
self  to  hear  what  you've  got  to  say." 

"In  fact,  I  hope  you  will  listen  carefully  to 
every  word  I  say,"  replied  Bennington,  with  a  nod 
toward  the  door. 

The  committee  went  out  solemnly.  Morrissy 
was  next  to  the  last  to  go  down  the  stairs.  Ben 
nington  followed  closely  behind  him. 

"Some  day  I'll  get  a  good  chance  at  you,  Mr. 
Morrissy,  and  the  devil  take  care  of  you  when  I 
do.  I  shall  see  to  it  that  the  law  will  be  found  to 
fit  your  case." 

Morrissy  shifted  over  to  the  balustrade,  look 
ing  over  his  shoulder  at  the  speaker. 

"Look  here,  you  can't  talk  to  me  that  way,  Ben 
nington." 

"Can't  I  ?  I'll  proceed.  In  the  first  place,  you're 
a  damn  scoundrel.  You've  brought  about  this 
trouble  simply  to  show  that  you  have  power  to 
injure  me.  Well,  you  can't  injure  me,  Mr.  Mor 
rissy,  but  you  \vill  do  irreparable  injury  to  these ' 
poor  men  who  put  their  trust  in  you  and  your 
kind.  Chittenden?  That's  a  pretty  poor  excuse. 
You've  always  harbored  a  grudge  against  my 
father,  and  this  seems  to  be  your  chance.  You've 
the  idea  that  you  can  intimidate  me.  You  can't 
317 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

intimidate  me  any  more  than  you  could  my  father. 
More  than  all  this,  McQuade  is  back  of  this  move; 
and  if  I  can  prove  that  you  accepted  a  bribe  from 
him,  I'll  have  you  both  in  court  for  conspiracy." 

"You're  talking  big.  It  won't  do  you  any 
good." 

"Wait  I  should  be  willing  to  wait  ten  years  to 
call  you  a  thief  and  a  blackguard  in  p;:blic.  But 
I  say  to  you  now,  privately,  you  are  both  a  thief 
and  a  blackguard." 

Morrissy  stepped  back,  red  in  the  face.  But  he 
recognized  the  disadvantage  of  his  position.  He 
was  one  step  lower  than  his  accuser. 

"Go  on,"  said  Bennington,  his  voice  now  hard 
and  metallic;  "go  on  down.  There'll  be  no  rough 
and  tumble  here.  I  won't  give  you  that  satisfac 
tion." 

"Well,  you  mark  my  words,  I'll  get  satisfaction 
out  of  you  shortly,  and  then  you'll  talk  on  the 
other  side  of  your  mouth.  This  is  business  now. 
When  that's  done,  why,  I'll  make  you  eat  every 
one  of  those  words." 

Bennington  laughed  sinisterly.  He  could  crush 
the  life  out  of  this  flabby  ruffian  with  one  arm, 
easily. 

Nothing  more  was  said,  and  the  way  to  the 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

great  molding-room  was  traversed  silently.  Ship 
ley  sent  out  orders,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  men 
congregated  to  hear  what  the  boss  had  to  say.  It 
was,  to  say  the  least,  an  unusual  proceeding,  this 
of  an  employer  delivering  a  speech  to  his  men  after 
they  had  practically  declared  a  strike.  Morrissy 
now  regretted  that  he  had  given  Bennington  any 
grace  at  all,  for  it  was  not  to  be  doubted  that  there 
was  only  a  small  majority  of  the  men  who  had 
voted  for  a  strike.  And  these  were  the  young 
men ;  youth  is  always  so  hot-headed  and  cock-sure 
of  itself.  The  older  men,  the  men  who  had  drawn 
their  pay  in  the  shops  for  twenty  years  or  more, 
they  were  not  so  confident. 

Bennington  mounted  a  pile  of  molds  and  raised 
his  hand.  The  murmur  of  voices  dwindled  away 
into  silence.  The  sun  came  in  through  the  spread 
ing  skylights,  and  Bennington  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  radiance.  He  was  a  man,  every  inch  of  him, 
and  not  a  man  among  them  could  deny  it.  There 
are  many  things  that  are  recognizable  even  to 
crass  minds,  and  one  of  these  is  a  man.  Genius 
they  look  upon  with  contempt,  but  not  strength 
and  resolution ;  they  can  not  comprehend  what  is 
not  visible  to  the  eye. 

"Fire  away,  boss !"  said  a  voice  from  the  crowd. 
319 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

Many  of  the  men  smiled,  but  there  was  no  an 
swering  smile  on  the  face  of  the  man  on  the  molds. 

"I  have  but  few  words  to  say  to  you  men,  and 
I  trust  for  the  sake  of  your  families  that  you  will 
weigh  carefully  every  word  I  utter."  Bennington 
took  his  father's  letter  from  his  pocket  and  un 
folded  it.  "You  are  about  to  take  a  step  such  as 
you  all  will  live  to  regret.  My  father  never  threat 
ened  ;  he  acted.  I  shall  follow  his  example.  You 
are  on  the  verge  of  striking.  I  shall  recognize  the 
strike  only  at  the  moment  you  decide  to  leave  the 
shops.  You  will  strike  without  cause,  without 
justice,  simply  because  you  are  commanded  to  do 
so  by  your  leader." 

"Hold  on,  Mr.  Bennington !"  cried  one  of  those 
nearest  him.  "We  have  the  right  to  vote,  and  we 
voted  against  your  policy  in  hiring  a  non-union 
man." 

"Put  it  that  way  if  it  pleases  you,"  replied  Ben 
nington.  "I  say  that  you  strike  simply  to  show 
how  strong  your  power  is.  It  is  a  fine  thing 
to  have  power,  but  it  is  finer  by  far  to  use  it  only 
when  justice  makes  a  cause.  But  power  is  a  ter 
rible  weapon  in  the  hands  of  those  who  can  not 
direct  it  wisely.  Let  me  come  to  facts.  Your 
wages  are  the  highest  in  the  city,  five  per  cent. 
320 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

above  the  union  scale ;  your  hours  are  the  shortest ; 
there  is  no  Sunday-night  shift;  you  have  at  your 
pleasure  a  gymnasium  and  a  swimming-pool ;  you 
are  each  of  you  given  a  week's  vacation  in  the 
summer  on  full  pay,  a  thing  no  other  concern  of 
the  kind  in  the  state  does;  all  the  machinery  is 
flawless,  minimizing  your  chances  of  danger;  in 
fact,  you  draw  pay  fifty-two  weeks  in  the  year  in 
the  squarest  shop  in  the  world.  If  any  man  wishes 
to  deny  these  things,  let  him  stand  forth." 

But  there  was  neither  sound  nor  movement 
from  the  men. 

Bennington  continued.  "Men,  you  have  no 
grievance.  This  man  Chittenden,  the  alleged  cause 
of  your  striking,  takes  no  food  or  pay  from  your 
mouths  or  your  pockets;  he  interferes  with  you 
in  no  manner  whatever.  The  contrivance  he  is 
trying  to  complete  will  not  limit  the  output,  but 
will  triple  it,  necessitating  the  employment  of 
more  men.  But  your  leader  says  that  the  present 
output  is  wholly  sufficient,  and  you  are  taking  his 
word  for  it.  Mr.  Chittenden  represents  progress, 
but  you  have  taken  it  into  your  heads  that  you 
will  have  none  of  it.  He  refuses  to  join  the  union, 
and  I  refuse  to  discharge  him  on  that  ground.  I 
do  not  say  that  this  shall  not  be  a  union  shop;  I 
321 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

say  that  I  shall  employ  whom  I  will  for  any  pur 
pose  I  see  fit.  It  is  your  say,  so  say  it ;  yours  is  the 
power;  use  it.  ...  Patience,  just  a  little 
longer.  I  have  shown  much  of  it  during  the  past 
year." 

The  men  swayed  restlessly,  and  then  became 
still  again  when  they  saw  that  he  was  going  to 
read  something. 

"I  have  here  the  last  letter  my  father  ever  wrote 
me.  As  I  received  it  after  his  death,  I  might  say 
that  it  is  a  voice  from  the  grave.  I  will  read  that 
part  which  affects  the  shops. 

"  'And  so,  my  son,  I  leave  you  this  last  request. 
Day  after  day,  year  after  year,  I  have  toiled  hon 
estly,  with  the  will  and  the  foresight  God  gave  me. 
I  die  prosperous  and  contented,  having  acquired  my 
riches  without  ill  to  any  and  without  obligation.  I 
have  never  wronged  any  man,  though  often  the 
power  to  do  so  has  been  in  my  hands.  But  reason 
always  cools  hot  blood,  and  I  have  always  kept  a 
strong  curb  on  all  my  angry  impulses.  Some  day 
the  men  will  strike  again,  what  about  I  know  not; 
but  this  I  do  know  :  it  will  be  without  justice.  I  have 
bent  to  them  nine  out  of  ten  times.  Nine  of  their 
demands  were  not  wholly  unreasonable,  but  the 
tenth  was.  And  this  demand  was  that  I  should  have 
no  non-union  men  in  the -shops.  This  strike  lasted 
four  months.  You  will  recall  it.  I  do  not  know  how 
long  it  might  have  gone  on,  had  not  the  poor  devil, 
who  was  the  cause  of  it,  died.  I  and  the  men  came 

322 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

^together  again.  We  patched  up  our  differences,  cov 
ertly,  so  to  speak.  The  men  appeared  at  the  gates 
one  morning,  and  I  let  them  in  without  referring  by 
a  single  word  to  what  had  taken  place.  The  princi 
ple  of  unionism  is  a  noble  thing,  but  ignoble  men. 
like  rust  in  girders,  gnaw  rapidly  into  principles  and 
quickly  and  treacherously  nullify  their  good. 

"  The  destroyer  is  everywhere.  The  apple  has  its 
worm,  the  rose  its  canker,  the  steel  its  rust.  It  is 
the  ignorant  and  envious  man  who  misuses  power 
that,  rightly  directed,  moves  toward  the  emancipa 
tion  of  the  human  race.  There  are  cruel  and  grasp 
ing  and  dishonest  employers,  who  grind  the  heart 
and  soul  out  of  men.  The  banding  together  of  the 
laboring  men  was  done  in  self-defense ;  it  was  a  case 
of  survive  or  perish.  The  man  who  inaugurated 
unionism  was  a  great  philanthropist.  The  unions 
began  well ;  that  is  because  their  leaders  were  honest, 
and  because  there  was  no  wolf  in  the  fold  to  recog 
nize  the  extent  of  power.  It  was  an  ignorant  man 
who  first  discovered  it,  and  for  the  most  part  igno 
rance  still  wears  the  crown  and  holds  the  scepter. 
The  men  who  put  themselves  under  the  guidance  of 
a  dishonest  labor  leader  are  much  to  be  pitied.  The 
individual  laboring  man  always  had  my  right  hand, 
but  I  have  never  had  any  particular  reason  to  ad 
mire  the  union  leader. 

'  'There  were  two  hundred  and  twelve  strikes  last 
year,  of  which  only  six  had  cause.  The  others  were 
brought  about  by  politicians  and  greedy  unions. 
Dishonesty  finds  the  line  of  least  resistance  in  greed. 
Now,  I  have  studied  the  strike  problem  from  begin 
ning  to  end.  There  can  .be  no  strike  at  the  Benning- 
ton  shops  for  a  just  cause.  Had  I  lived  long  enough, 
the  shops  would  have  been  open-shop.  My  son, 
never  surrender  once  to  injustice,  for  if  you  do  you 

323 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

will  establish  a  precedent,  and  you  will  go  on  sur 
rendering  to  the  end  of  time.  I  leave  the  shops  to 
you.  There  is  but  one  thing  I  demand,  and  that  is 
that  you  shall  never  sell  the  shops;  Bennington  or 
nothing.  If  you  have  difficulties  with  the  men, 
weigh  them  on  the  smallest  scales.  You  will  be  mas 
ter  there — you  alone.  It  is  a  big  responsibility,  but 
I  have  the  greatest  confidence  in  you.  When  the 
time  comes,  show  that  you  are  master,  even  to  the 
tearing  down  of  every  brick  and  stone  that  took  me 
so  long  to  erect.  I  shall  be  where  such  disasters  will 
not  worrv  me  in  the  least.'  " 


Bennington  refolded  the  letter  slowly.  The  men 
stood  absolutely  motionless,  waiting. 

"Men,  if  you  go  out  this  day,  not  one  of  you 
will  ever  find  employment  here  again.  My  sense 
of  justice  is  large,  and  nothing  but  that  shall  dic 
tate  to  me.  I  shall  employ  and  discharge  whom  I 
\\':\l;  no  man  or  organization  of  men  shall  say  to 
me  that  this  or  that  shall  be  done  here.  I  am  mas 
ter,  but  perhaps  you  will  understand  this  too  late. 
Stay  or  go;  that  is  as  you  please.  If  you  stay, 
nothing  more  will  be  said  on  my  part;  if  you 
go  ...  Well,  I  shall  tear  down  these  walls  and 
sell  the  machinery  for  scrap-iron !" 

For  the  first  time  he  showed  emotion.  He 
brought  his  hands  strongly  together,  as  a  man 
puts  the  final  blow  to  the  nail,  then  buttoned  up 
324 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

his  coat  and  stood  erect,  his  chin  aggressive  and 
his  mouth  stern. 

"Well,  which  is  it  to  be  ?"  he  demanded. 

"You  are  determined  to  keep  Chittenden  ?" 

"Positively  determined." 

"We'll  go  out,  Mr.  Bennington,"  said  Shipley. 

"And  what's  more,"  added  Morrissy,  "we'll  see 
that  nobody  else  comes  in." 

He  lighted  a  cigar,  shoved  his  hands  into  his 
trousers  pockets  and  walked  insolently  toward  the 
exit.  The  majority  of  the  men  were  grinning. 
Tear  down  this  place?  Kill  the  goose  that  laid 
the  golden  egg?  It  was  preposterous.  Why,  no 
man  had  ever  done  a  thing  like  that.  It  was  to  cut 
off  one's  nose  to  spite  one's  face.  It  was  a  case  of 
bluff,  pure  and  simple.  Winter  was  nearly  three 
months  off.  By  that  time  this  smart  young  man 
would  be  brought  to  his  senses.  So  they  began 
filing  out  in  twos  and  threes,  their  blouses  and 
dinner-pails  tucked  under  their  arms.  Many  were 
whistling  lightly,  many  were  smoking  their  pipes, 
but  there  were  some  who  passed  forth  silent 
and  grave.  If  this  young  man  was  a  chip  of  the 
old  block,  they  had  best  start  out  at  once  in  search 
of  a  new  job. 

Bennington  jumped  down  from  his  impromptu 
325 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

platform  and  closed  the  ponderous  doors.  Then 
he  hurried  to  the  main  office,  where  he  notified  the 
clerks  what  had  happened.  He  returned  to  his 
private  office.  He  arranged  his  papers  method 
ically,  closed  the  desk,  and  sat  down.  His  gaze 
wandered  to  the  blue  hills  and  rolling  pastures, 
and  his  eyes  sparkled;  but  he  forced  back  what 
had  caused  it,  and  presently  his  eyes  became  dry 
and  hard. 

'You  and  your  actress  and  her  lover'/'  he 
murmured  softly.  "My  God,  I  am  very  un 
happy  !" 


326 


CHAPTER   XV 

The  anonymous  letter  is  still  being  written. 
This  is  the  weapon  of  the  cowardly  and  envious 
heart,  so  filled  with  venom  and  malice  that  it  has 
the  courage  or  brazenness  to  go  about  piously 
proclaiming  the  word  duty.  Beware  of  the  woman 
who  has  ink-stains  on  her  fingers  and  a  duty  to 
perform ;  beware  of  her  also  who  never  complains 
of  the  lack  of  time,  but  who  is  always  harking  on 
duty,  duty.  Some  people  live  close  to  the  blinds. 
Oft  on  a  stilly  night  one  hears  the  blinds  rattle 
never  so  slightly.  Is  anything  going  on  next  door  ? 
Does  a  carriage  stop  across  the  way  at  two 
o'clock  of  a  morning?  Trust  the  woman  behind 
the  blinds  to  answer.  Coming  or  going,  little  or 
nothing  escapes  this  vigilant  eye  that  has  a  retina 
not  unlike  that  of  a  horse,  since  it  magnifies  the 
diameter  of  everything  nine  times.  To  hope  for 
the  worst  and  to  find  it,  that  is  the  golden  text  of 
the  busybody.  The  busybody  is  always  a  prude; 
and  prude  signifies  an  evil-minded  person  who  is 
virtuous  bodily.  They  are  never  without  ink  or 
327 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

soft  lead-pencils.  Ink  has  accomplished  more  won 
derful  things  than  man  can  enumerate;  though 
just  now  a  dissertation  on  ink  in  ink  is  ill-timed. 

To  return  again  to  the  anonymous  letter.  Add 
and  multiply  the  lives  it  has  wrecked,  the  wars 
brought  about.  Menelaus,  King  of  the  Greeks, 
doubtless  received  one  regarding  Helen's  fancy 
for  that  simpering  son  of  Priam,  Paris.  The 
anonymous  letter  was  in  force  even  in  that  remote 
period,  the  age  of  myths.  It  is  consistent,  for 
nearly  all  anonymous  letters  are  myths.  A  wife 
stays  out  late ;  her  actions  may  be  quite  harmless, 
only  indiscreet.  There  is,  alack !  always  some  in 
timate  friend  who  sees,  who  dabbles  her  pen  in  the 
ink-well  and  labors  over  a  backhand  stroke.  It  is 
her  bounden  duty  to  inform  the  husband  forth 
with.  The  letter  may  wreck  two  lives,  but  what  is 
this  beside  stern,  implacable  duty?  When  man 
writes  an  anonymous  letter  he  is  in  want  of 
money ;  when  woman  writes  one  she  is  in  want  of 
a  sensation.  It  is  easy  to  reject  a  demand  for 
money,  but  we  accept  the  lie  and  wrap  it  to  our 
bosoms,  so  quick  are  we  to  believe  ill  of  those  we 
love.  This  is  an  aspect  of  human  nature  that  eludes 
analysis,  as  quicksilver  eludes  the  pressure  of  the 
finger.  The  anonymous  letter  breeds  suspicion; 
328 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

suspicion  begets  tragedy.  The  greatest  tragedy  is 
not  that  which  kills,  but  that  which  prolongs  men 
tal  agony.  Honest  men  and  women,  so  we  are 
told,  pay  no  attention  to  anonymous  letters.  They 
toss  them  into  the  waste-basket  .  .  .  and  brood 
over  them  in  silence. 

Now,  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  was  always  con 
sidering  her  duty;  her  duty  to  the  church,  to 
society,  to  charity,  and,  upon  occasions,  to  her 
lord  and  master. 

"Bennington's  men  have  gone  out,  the  fools!" 
said  Haldene  from  over  the  top  of  his  paper. 

"Have  they  ?"  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  nibbled 
the  tip  of  her  pen.  She  sighed,  tore  up  what  she 
had  written  and  filtered  it  through  her  fingers  into 
the  waste-basket. 

"Yes,  they've  gone  out.  I  don't  know  what  the 
business  world  is  coming  to.  Why,  the  brick-layer 
gets — I  don't  say  earns — more  than  the  average 
clerk.  And  Bennington's  men  go  out  simply  be 
cause  he  refuses  to  discharge  that  young  Eng 
lish  inventor.  .  .  .  What  are  you  writing  and 
tearing  up  so  often  ?"  he  asked,  his  curiosity  sud 
denly  aroused. 

"A  letter." 

"Thoughts  clogged?" 

329 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"It  is  a  difficult  letter  to  write." 

"Then  there  can't  be  any  gossip  in  it." 

"I  never  concern  myself  with  gossip,  Franklyn. 
I  wish  I  could  make  you  understand  that." 

"I  wish  you  could,  too."  He  laid  his  paper 
down.  "Well,  I'm  off  to  the  club,  unless  you  are 
particularly  in  need  of  me." 

"You  are  always  going  to  the  club." 

"Or  coming  back." 

"Some  husbands — " 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  the  men  I  play  poker  with 
are  too  much  interested  in  the  draw  to  talk  about 
other  men's  wives." 

"It's  the  talk  of  the  town  the  way  you  men 
play  cards." 

"Better  the  purse  than  the  reputation." 

"I  haven't  any  doubt  that  you  are  doing  your 
best  to  deplete  both,"  coldly. 

Then  she  sighed  profoundly.  This  man  was  a 
great  disappointment  to  her.  He  did  not  under 
stand  her  at  all.  The  truth  was,  if  she  but  knew  it, 
he  understood  her  only  too  well.  She  had  married 
the  handsomest  man  in  town  because  all  the  other 
belles  had  been  after  him ;  he  had  married  money, 
after  a  fashion.  Such  mistakes  are  frequent  rather 
than  singular  these  days.  The  two  had  nothing  in 
330 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

common.  It  is  strange  that  persons  never  find  this 
out  till  after  the  honeymoon.  Truly,  marriage  is  a 
voyage  of  discovery  for  which  there  are  no  relief 
expeditions. 

So  Haldene  went  to  the  club,  while  his  wife 
squared  another  sheet  of  writing-paper  and  began 
again.  Half  an  hour  went  by  before  she  completed 
her  work  with  any  degree  of  satisfaction.  Even 
then  she  had  some  doubts.  She  then  took  a  pair  of 
shears  and  snipped  the  crest  from  the  sheet  and 
sealed  it  in  a  government  envelope.  Next  she 
threw  a  light  wrap  over  her  shoulders  and  stole 
down  to  the  first  letter-box,  where  she  deposited 
the  trifle.  The  falling  of  the  lid  broke  sharply  on 
the  still  night.  She  returned  to  the  house,  feeling 
that  a  great  responsibility  had  been  shifted  from 
hers  to  another's  shoulders.  Indeed,  she  would 
have  gone  to  any  lengths  to  save  Patty  a  life  of 
misery.  And  to  think  of  that  woman !  To  think  of 
her  assuming  a  quasi-leadership  in  society,  as  if 
she  were  to  the  manner  born !  The  impudence  of  it 
all !  Poor  Mrs.  Bennington,  with  her  grey  hairs ; 
it  would  break  her  heart  when  she  found  out  (as 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  determined  she  should) 
the  sort  of  woman  her  son  had  married.  She 
straightened  her  shoulders  and  pressed  her  lips 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

firmly  and  contemplated  a  duty,  painfully  but  rig 
orously  performed.  She  cast  the  scraps  of  paper 
into  the  grate  and  applied  a  match.  It  is  not  al 
ways  well  that  duty  should  leave  any  circumstan 
tial  evidence  behind. 

The  evening  papers  devoted  a  good  deal  of 
space  to  the  strike  at  the  Bennington  shops.  They 
frankly  upheld  Bennington.  They  admitted  that 
employers  had  some  individual  rights.  They  be 
rated  the  men  for  quarreling  over  a  matter  so 
trivial  as  the  employment  of  a  single  non-union 
man,  who  was,  to  say  the  most,  merely  an  experi 
menter.  However,  they  treated  lightly  Benning- 
ton's  threat  to  demolish  the  shops.  No  man  in  his 
right  mind  would  commit  so  childish  an  act.  It 
would  be  revenge  of  a  reactive  order,  fool  match 
ing  fools,  whereas  Bennington  ought  to  be  more 
magnanimous.  The  labor  unions  called  special 
meetings,  and  with  one  or  two  exceptions  voted  to 
stand  by  the  action  of  the  men. 

There  was  positively  no  politics  behind  this 
strike ;  everybody  understood  that ;  at  least,  every 
body  thought  he  understood.  But  there  were 
some  who  smiled  mysteriously  and  wagged  their 
heads.  One  thing  was  certain;  Bennington's 
332 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

friend,  Warrington,  would  lose  many  hundred 
votes  in  November.  For  everybody  knew  which 
way  the  Republican  convention  would  go;  there 
was  nobody  in  sight  but  Warrington. 

Bennington  and  Mrs.  Jack  dined  at  the  old 
home  that  evening.  There  was  plenty  of  gloom 
and  forced  gaiety  around  the  board.  John  pre 
tended  that  he  was  well  out  of  a  bad  job ;  he  was 
not  a  dreamer  nor  a  socialist,  not  he ;  Utopia  was 
not  for  the  iron  age.  He  told  stories,  joked  and 
laughed,  and  smoked  frequently.  No  one  but  the 
mother  had  the  courage  to  ask  if  he  really  meant 
to  tear  down  the  mills.  She  came  around  the  table, 
smoothed  his  hair  as  she  had  done  since  he  was  a 
boy,  and  leaned  over  his  chair. 

"John?" 

"Well,  mother  mine?" 

"Shall  you  really  do  it?" 

"Do  what?" 

"Tear  it  down." 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  she  waited, 
trembling. 

"You  would  not  have  me  take  back  my  words  to 
the  men,  would  you,  mother?"  quietly. 

"Your  father  loved  the  place." 

"And  do  I  not  ?"  a  note  of  strong  passion  in  his 
333 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

voice.  "I  shall  tear  it  down,  if  I  live.  Do  not  ask 
me  anything  more  about  it.  Has  Dick  been  over 
to-day?" 

"He  telephoned  that  he  would  be  over  after 
dinner.  He  wants  you  to  go  to  the  speech-making 
to-night."  Patty  rose  from  her  seat  at  the  table. 

"Patty,"  said  John,  rather  surprised  at  his  dis 
covery,  "you  are  almost  a  woman !" 

"You  men  never  see  anything  quickly,"  said 
Mrs.  Jack.  "Patty  has  been  a  beautiful  woman 
for  several  months." 

Patty  started,  restrained  the  impulse  to  speak, 
and  searched  Mrs.  Jack's  face.  But  Mrs.  Jack 
had  eyes  for  no  one  but  John.  Her  thought  was 
far  removed  from  her  words.  That  telephone 
message  rang  in  her  ears  every  hour  of  the  day. 
One  moment  she  was  on  the  verge  of  telling  John, 
the  next  she  dared  not.  What  had  that  wretch 
found  out?  What  could  he  have  found  out?  A 
lie;  it  could  be  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  lie; 
but  the  suspense  and  the  waiting  were  killing  her. 
Every  beat  of  her  heart,  every  drop  of  her  blood, 
belonged  to  this  man  at  her  side,  and  she  would 
rather  die  than  that  doubt  should  mingle  with  his 
love.  She  was  miserable,  miserable ;  she  dared  not 
confide  in  any  one;  Patty  was  too  young,  for  all 
334 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

her  womanhood,  to  understand  fully.  Night  after 
night  she  forced  her  recollection  through  the  dim 
past,  but  she  could  find  nothing  but  harmless,  in 
nocent  follies.  Alas,  the  kaleidoscope  of  life  has  so 
many  variant  angles  that  no  two  eyes  see  alike. 
What  to  her  appeared  perfectly  innocent  might 
appear  evil  in  the  neighbors'  eyes;  what  to  her 
was  sunshine,  to  another  might  be  shadow. 

"Think  of  it !"  said  John.  "Patty  will  be  marry 
ing  before  long." 

Mrs.  Bennington  looked  at  Patty  and  sighed. 
To  rear  up  children  and  to  lose  them,  that  was  the 
mother's  lot.  To  accept  these  aches  with  resigna 
tion,  to  pass  the  days  in  reconciling  what  might  be 
with  what  shall  be,  that  was  the  mother's  portion. 
Yes,  Patty  must  some  day  marry. 

"When  Patty  marries,  mother,"  said  John,  "you 
shall  come  and  live  with  Kate  and  me." 

"You  are  moving  me  around  like  a  piece  of  use 
less  furniture,"  replied  Patty,  with  some  resent 
ment.  "I  doubt  if  I  shall  ever  marry." 

"Bosh!"  laughed  John.  "There'll  come  some 
bold  Lochinvar  for  you,  one  of  these  days;  and 
then  off  you'll  go.  There's  the  bell.  That  must  be 
Dick." 

Patty  and  Mrs.  Jack  crossed  glances  quickly. 
335 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

John  went  to  the  door  himself  and  brought  War- 
rington  back  with  him. 

"Won't  you  have  a  cup  of  tea,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton  ?"  asked  the  mother. 

"Thank  you,  I  will."  Warrington  stirred  the 
tea,  gazing  pleasantly  from  face  to  face. 

The  lines  in  his  face  seemed  deeper  than  usual ; 
the  under  lids  of  the  eyes  were  dark,  and  the 
squareness  of  the  jaw  was  more  prominent.  John 
saw  no  change,  but  the  three  women  did.  War 
rington  looked  careworn. 

"Well,  John,  I  see  that  you  have  done  it." 

"Yes." 

"I'm  terribly  sorry,  but  you  couldn't  back  down 
now  and  live  in  town." 

"You  see,  mother?"  John  smiled  sadly. 

"Yes,  my  son.  You  will  do  what  you  think  best 
and  manliest." 

"How's  the  cat?"  asked  Warrington. 

"It  still  wanders  about,  inconsolable,"  answered 
Patty.  How  careworn  he  looked ! 

"Poor  beast !  It  is  lucky  to  have  fallen  in  such 
good  hands." 

"When  you  are  mayor,"  said  Patty,  "you  must 
give  me  a  pefmit  to  rescue  stray  cats  from  the 
pound." 

336 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"I'll  do  more  than  that;  I'll  build  a  house  of 
shelter  for  them." 

"What  time  does  your  speaker  begin  ?"  inquired 
John,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar. 

"John,  you  are  smoking  too  much,"  remon 
strated  Mrs.  Jack. 

"I  know  it,  honey." 

"Rudolph  begins  at  nine;  if  we  go  then  that  will 
be  soon  enough.  You'll  be  amused.  Have  you 
been  riding  lately?"  Warrington  directed  this 
question  to  Patty. 

"Yes,  regularly  every  morning."  Patty  dallied 
with  the  crumbs  at  the  side  of  her  plate. 

"I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  me,  but  I 
find  it  wearies  me  to  climb  on  to  a  horse's  back. 
I  haven't  got  back  to  normal  conditions  yet." 

"I  was  wondering  where  you  were." 

"And  how  is  Jove  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Jack. 

"He's  snoozing  out  on  the  veranda.  I  take  him 
everywhere  now." 

Presently  they  moved  into  the  living-room. 
Warrington  longed  to  sit  beside  Patty,  but  of  a 
sudden  he  had  grown  diffident.  It  amused  him  to 
come  into  the  knowledge  that  all  his  address  and 
worldliness  would  not  stand  him  in  good  stead  in 
the  presence  of  Patty.  Words  were  no  longer  at 
337 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

his  command;  he  was  no  longer  at  his  ease.  He 
was  afraid  of  Patty ;  and  he  was  very,  very  lonely. 
That  empty  house  over  the  way  was  no  longer 
home.  There  were  moments  when  he  regretted  his 
plunge  into  politics.  He  was  not  free  to  pack  his 
luggage  and  speed  away  to  lands  that  urged  his 
fancy.  He  had  given  his  word,  and  he  was  too 
much  of  a  man  to  withdraw  it.  He  must  remain 
here  and  fight  two  battles. 

Mrs.  Jack  had  taken  the  seat  next  to  him,  and 
was  asking  him  about  the  progress  of  the  play. 
It  was  going  on  so  indifferently  that  he  was  of 
half  a  mind  to  destroy  it,  which  he  did  later. 
His  glance  always  came  back  to  Patty.  She  was 
bent  over  her  basket-work.  She  was  calling  him 
Mr.  Warrington  again.  Had  he  offended  her  in 
any  manner?  The  light  from  the  lamp  sparkled 
in  her  hair.  She  was  as  fresh  and  beautiful  as  a 
July  rose.  But  Mrs.  Jack  was  an  artist.  She  knew 
how  to  draw  him  out ;  and  shortly  he  was  talking 
animatedly.  It  was  now  that  Patty's  eyes  began 
to  rove. 

John,  his  ringers  meeting  in  an  arch,  one  leg 

thrown  restlessly  across  the  other,  thoughtfully 

eyed  his  wife  and  his  friend.   ...    It  was  a  lie; 

there  was  nothing  in  all  the  world  so  honest  as 

338 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington's  hand,  so  truthful  as  his  wife's  eyes. 
Cursed  be  the  doubt  that  had  wedged  between 
these  two  he  loved ! 

Time  passes  quickly  or  slowly,  according  to 
the  state  of  mind.  To  John  the  time  was  long ;  to 
Patty  and  Warrington  it  was  too  short;  to  Mrs. 
Jack  it  \vas  neither  long  nor  short,  but  suspended. 

"Time  for  us  to  go,  John.  You  are  not  particu 
lar  about  a  chair,  are  you?"  Warrington  asked. 

"Not  I.  I  prefer  to  stand  up  in  the  rear  of  the 
hall.  If  I  am  bored  I  can  easily  escape." 

"Oh,  the  night  will  not  be  without  some  amuse 
ment." 

"Take  good  care  of  John,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Jack  in  Warrington's  ear,  as  the  two  men  were 
about  to  depart. 

"Trust  me !"  Warrington  smiled. 

Patty  and  John  observed  this  brief  intercourse. 
The  eyes  of  love  are  sharp.  Patty  was  not  jealous, 
neither  was  John ;  but  something  had  entered  into 
their  lives  that  gave  to  all  trivial  things  a  ponder 
ous  outline. 

"Don't  let  any  reporters  talk  to  John,  Mr.  War 
rington,"  requested  the  mother. 

"I'll  surround  him." 

"Shall  we  walk?"  asked  John. 
339 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"We  can  see  better  on  foot." 

"We'll  walk,  then." 

So  the  two  men  went  down  town  on  foot,  and 
Jove  galloped  back  and  forth  joyously.  At  any 
and  all  times  he  was  happy  with  his  master.  The 
one  bane  of  his  existence  was  gone,  the  cat.  He 
was  monarch  of  the  house ;  he  could  sleep  on  sofa- 
pillows  and  roll  on  the  rugs,  and  nobody  stole  his 
bones. 

"Good  dog,"  observed  John. 

"Money  couldn't  buy  him.  I  saw  that  fellow 
Bolles  to-day,"  tentatively. 

"Bolles  ?"  John  did  not  recollect  the  name. 

"The  fellow  you  nearly  throttled  the  other 
night,"  explained  Warrington.  "He  looked  pretty 
well  battered  up.  I  never  saw  you  lose  your  tem 
per  so  quickfy  before." 

"He  struck  me  without  provocation,  at  the 
wrong  moment.  Who  is  going  to  speak  to-night  ?" 

"Donnelly  and  Rudolph." 

"What  do  you  think?  Donnelly  called  me  up 
by  'phone  this  afternoon.  Wants  to  know  if  I 
really  intend  to  tear  down  the  shops.  I  told  him  I 
had  nothing  to  say  on  the  subject." 

"Tear  them  down.  I  should.  You're  a  rich 
man." 

340 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Money  isn't  the  question.  The  thing  is,  what 
shall  I  do?  I'm  not  fitted  for  anything  else." 

"Tear  down  the  shops  and  then  build  them  up 
again,  after  a  few  years.  It  will  be  a  good  lesson 
to  these  union  leaders.  And  you  could  have  the 
fun  of  fighting  to  build  up  the  trade  your  father 
left.  You  were  talking  once  of  rebuilding  en 
tirely." 

"Not  a  bad  idea,  Dick.  Only,  I  feel  sorry  for 
the  men." 

"Why?  Are  they  free  men  or  are  they  not?  It 
rested  with  them  just  as  much  as  it  did  with  you. 
I  am  far  removed  from  the  principles  of  unionism, 
as  they  stand  to-day.  I  have  no  patience  or  sym 
pathy  with  men  who  can  not,  or  will  not,  appre 
ciate  a  liberal,  honest  employer." 

"Let's  change  the  subject,  Dick." 

For  a  block  or  so  they  proceeded  in  silence. 

"John,  you're  the  head  of  the  family.  I  love 
Patty  better  than  anything  else  on  God's  earth. 
Do  you  mind?"  Warrington  uttered  these  words 
swiftly,  before  his  courage,  which  he  had  sud 
denly  urged  to  its  highest,  dropped  back. 

John  swung  round  abruptly  and  brought  his 
hands  down  heavily  on  Warrington's  shoulders. 

"Is  that  true,  Dick?" 

34i 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"As  I  stand  here.  Oh,  I  know;  I'm  not  good 
enough  for  Patty.  I  haven't  lived  as  decently  as  I 
might.  I  haven't  gone  through  life  as  circum 
spectly  as  you  have.  I  drank;  success  made  me 
dizzy.  But  I  love  Patty — God  bless  her! — as  I 
never  hoped  or  dreamed  of  loving  any  woman. 
You're  a  man,  John;  you  will  understand.  I've 
been  alone  all  my  life;  buffeted  here  and  there, 
living  haphazard,  without  any  particular  restraint 
on  my  desires.  The  dear  old  aunt  was  the  only 
tie,  and  that  was  delicate  till  I  came  home  and 
found  how  good  and  kind  she  was.  I  miss  her; 
months  from  now  I  shall  miss  her  a  hundredfold. 
I'm  very  lonely.  You've  all  been  so  good  to  me. 
To  be  alone,  and  to  think  of  living  alone  for  the 
rest  of  my  days,  is  a  torture.  My  nature  craves 
companionship,  and  this  craving  has  led  me  into 
plenty  of  mischief.  I  love  Patty.  What  do  you 
say,  John  ?" 

"Say?  Why,  you  are  good  enough  for  any 
woman  alive.  I  am  very  glad,  Dick.  Patty  mar 
ried  to  you!  You  old  farmer,"  affectionately, 
"I've  always  been  mentally  pairing  off  you  two! 
Come  on;  let's  hear  what  the  political  windmill 
has  to  say.  They're  burning  red  fire  in  front  of 
the  hall." 

342 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

But  a  moment  gone  their  feet  had  dragged  with 
each  step;  now  there  was  a  lightness  that  was 
dancing.  John  knew  that  it  was  all  a  lie;  and  his 
heart  was  as  light  as  his  feet.  Kate,  dear  Kate! 
He  was  a  wretch !  He  slapped  Warrington  on  the 
shoulder. 

"To  think  of  your  marrying  Patty,  the  little 
sister !" 

"Don't  go  too  fast,  John,"  said  Warrington 
with  less  enthusiasm.  "I  haven't  said  a  word  to 
Patty  yet;  and  if  she's  a  sensible  young  woman, 
she'll  give  me  my  conge  first-off." 

"By  George,  women  are  strange  creatures.  It's 
the  truth,  Dick;  you  can't  tell  which  way  they'll 
go.  But  Patty's  no  fool."  John  hadn't  felt  so 
good  in  many  hours. 

"But  I  love  her,  and  God  knows  I  shall  try  to 
be  worthy  of  her,  even  if  I  lose  her.  .  .  .  Sky 
rockets!"  with  an  upward  glance.  "That's  the 
signal  for  Rudolph's  arrival  at  the  hall." 

"Come  on,  then !" 

Rudolph  was  the  great  Jeffersonian  Democrat, 
not  by  excellence,  rather  by  newspaper  courtesy, 
and  that,  to  be  specific,  by  his  own  newspaper.  He 
had  come  up  from  New  York  that  day  to  deliver 
his  already  famous  speech.  He  was  one  of  the 
343 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

many  possibilities  in  the  political  arena  for  the 
governorship.  And  as  he  was  a  multimillionaire, 
he  was  sure  of  a  great  crowd.  As  an  Englishman 
loves  a  lord,  so  does  the  American  love  a  million 
aire.  Rudolph's  newspaper  was  the  only  one  in 
the  metropolis  that  patted  him  on  the  back  regu 
larly  each  morning.  He  was  the  laboring  man's 
friend ;  he  was  the  arch  enemy  of  the  monopolies 
(not  yet  called  trusts)  ;  and  so  forth  and  so  on. 
For  all  that  some  laughed  at  him,  he  was  an  able 
politician,  and  was  perfectly  honest  in  all  his  po 
litical  transactions,  which  is  something  of  a  para 
dox.  So  he  came  up  to  Herculaneum  to  convert 
the  doubting.  The  laboring  party  greeted  him 
en  masse,  and  stormed  the  hall  for  choice  seats. 

The  hall  was  a  low,  rambling  structure,  bad  for 
the  voice,  but  capable  of  seating  a  few  thousands. 
The  curbs  glared  with  green  and  red  fire,  and  a 
band  blared  out  the  songs  of  freedom.  The 
crowds  surged  back  and  forth,  grumbling  and 
laughing  and  shouting.  Arid  the  near-by  saloons 
did  a  land-office  business.  It  was  a  great  night  for 
the  man  who  had  nothing  to  do.  All  at  once  there 
was  loud  hurrahing.  An  open  hack  drove  up  to 
the  entrance,  and  the  great  Jeffersonian  stood  up, 
bowing,  bowing.  The  green  light  on  one  side  and 
344 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

the  red  on  the  other  gave  to  his  face  a  Gargantuan 
aspect  rather  than  that  of  a  Quixote,  to  whom  he 
was  more  often  likened  than  to  any  other  character 
in  fiction.  The  police  cleared  a  pathway  for  the 
great  man,  and  he  hurried  up  the  steps.  Another 
cheer,  and  another  blast  from  the  band.  Great  is 
popularity,  whose  handmaiden  is  oblivion. 

"They'll  be  doing  all  this  to  you  some  day," 
John  declared,  as  he  and  Warrington  elbowed 
through  the  crowd,  the  dog  between  their  legs. 

"That's  him !"  cried  a  voice. 

"Who?" 

"The  fellow  that  writes ;  Henderson's  man." 

"Salt  licks  for  him !"  came  in  derision. 

"He'll  give  Donnelly  a  run  for  the  money." 

"Not  in  a  thousand  years !" 

All  this  amused  Warrington. 

"How  d'  y'  do,  Mr.  Warrington  ?" 

A  hand  touched  the  prospective  candidate  on 
the  arm.  Warrington  saw  Osborne's  rubicund 
nose. 

"So  you're  out,  too,  Mr.  Osborne?" 

"I  never  let  meetings  go  by,  Richard.  Good 
evening,  Mr.  Bennington.  A  man  with  ten  mil 
lions  doesn't  look  any  different  from  ordinary 
mortals,  does  he?  But  he  is  different,  or  he 
345 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

wouldn't  have  that  barrel.  A  million  is  like  a 
light-house ;  it  attracts  all  sorts  of  birds." 

Warrington  laughed  and  went  on.  Once  or 
twice  he  lost  the  dog,  but  Jove  managed  to  turn 
up  each  time. 

"We'll  stand  at  the  left,"  said  John ;  "it's  nearer 
the  exits." 

"Just  as  you  say.  I  wish  I'd  left  the  dog  at 
home.  He's  a  nuisance  in  a  crowd  like  this." 

They  presently  stood  with  their  backs  to  the 
wall  and  looked  toward  the  stage.  Donnelly  was 
already  speaking  about  the  great  man  who  was 
that  night  to  address  them. 

"And,"  concluded  the  mayor,  "Mr.  Rudolph 
will  lead  us  to  a  victory  such  as  the  party  in  this 
state  has  not  yet  known."  And  half  a  hundred 
more  final  words.  Man  approaches  nearest  wom 
an's  postscript  when  he  says :  "And,  gentlemen, 
just  one  word  more !" 

Meantime  Warrington's  gaze  \vandered  here 
and  there.  He  saw  many  familiar  faces, — poli 
ticians,  prominent  merchants  of  both  parties,  and 
the  usual  exuberant  hundreds  drawn  thither  only 
by  curiosity.  These  were  willing  to  applaud  any 
thing  and  anybody,  without  knowing  or  caring 
what  about.  Quiet  one  moment,  roaring  the  next ; 
346 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

murmur,  murmur,  like  angry  waters  on  shingle. 
These  make  and  unmake  public  men;  they  have 
nothing,  but  they  can  give  everything.  Strong 
tobacco  smoke  rolled  ceilingward,  and  those  on 
the  stage  became  blurred  and  nebulous.  Once 
Warrington  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  battered  face, 
but  it  disappeared  quickly.  However,  he  said 
nothing  to  Bennington.  Again,  he  saw  McQuade 
moving  about,  within  fifty  feet.  From  time  to  time 
McQuade  stooped,  and  Warrington  knew  that  the 
white  dog  was  present. 

"Gentlemen,"  concluded  Donnelly,  with  a  flour 
ish,  "William  Henry  Rudolph,  of  New  York,  our 
next  governor." 

And,  to  quote  the  sympathetic  reporters,  "tre 
mendous  applause  shook  the  rafters."  Mr.  Ru 
dolph  rose  majestically,  and  smiled  and  bowed. 
Heigh-ho!  man  accepts  applause  so  easily;  the 
noise,  not  the  heart  behind  it ;  the  uproar,  not  the 
thought.  Man  usually  fools  himself  when  he  opens 
his  ears  to  these  sounds,  often  more  empty  than 
brass.  But  so  porous  is  man's  vanity  that  it  readily 
absorbs  any  kind  of  noise  arranged  for  its  benefit. 

He  began  calmly.  The  orator  always  reserves 
his  telling  apostrophes  till  that  time  when  it  is 
necessary  to  smite  palm  with  fist.  He  spoke 
347 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

of  Jefferson,  the  simplicity  of  his  life,  the  firmness 
of  his  purpose,  the  height  of  his  ideals.  He  for 
got,  as  political  speakers  generally  forget  who 
emulate  their  historic  political  forebears,  that  pro 
gress  rearranges  principles  and  constitutions,  that 
what  passed  as  good  statesmanship  in  Jefferson's 
time  is  out  of  order  in  the  present.  Mr.  Rudolph 
paused  in  the  middle  of  a  metaphor.  There  was  a 
sudden  commotion  in  the  rear  of  the  hall.  Men 
were  surging  to  and  fro. 

"Stand  back!"  cried  a  firm,  resonant  voice,  full 
of  anger. 

The  uproar  increased.  Those  in  the  forward 
chairs  craned  their  necks.  Some  stood  up  to  learn 
what  the  matter  might  be.  Others  mounted  their 
seats.  A  thousand  absurd  conjectures  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth. 

"Somebody's  dropped  dead !" 

"Sit  down  in  front !   Sit  down !" 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"Where  are  the  police  ?" 

"Put  him  out!" 

"A  fight!" 

Blue  helmets  moved  toward  the  scene  of  action 
slowly.  Mr.  Rudolph  still  paused  and  moistened 
his  lips  impatiently.  Men  can  give  and  take  away 
348 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

popularity  in  the  same  breath,  but  a  dog  fight  is 
arranged  by  occult  forces,  and  must,  like  oppor 
tunity,  be  taken  when  it  comes.  We  are  educated 
to  accept  oratory,  but  we  need  no  education  in 
the  matter  of  a  dog  fight.  This  red  corpuscle  was 
transmitted  to  us  from  the  Stone  Age,  and  the 
primordial  pleasures  alone  resist  enlightenment. 

Two  bulldogs,  one  tan,  the  other  white,  were 
fighting  desperately,  near  the  exits.  In  between 
human  legs,  under  chairs,  this  way  and  that,  snarl 
ing,  snapping,  dragging.  Men  called  out,  kicked, 
tried  to  use  canes  and  umbrellas,  and  some  burned 
matches.  The  dogs  were  impervious.  Now  the 
white  dog  was  atop,  now  the  tan.  So  many  inter 
fered  that  there  was  no  interference. 

It  was  Warrington  who  had  cried  out.  He  had 
been  listening  to  the  orator;  and  Jove,  smelling 
his  enemy  from  afar,  slyly  crept  out  of  his  mas 
ter's  reach.  The  white  dog  had  also  been  on  the 
watch.  In  the  drop  of  an  eyelid  the  battle  was  on. 
Warrington  instantly  comprehended  the  situation, 
when  he  saw  McQuade,  who  had  every  confidence 
in  his  dog,  clear  a  circle.  He  pushed  his  way 
through  the  swaying  wall  of  men  and  commanded 
those  in  front  to  stand  back.  He  was  furious.  He 
had  no  objections  to  human  beings  fighting,  but 
349 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

he  detested  these  bloody  conflicts  between  dumb 
brutes.  He  called  to  Jove,  but  Jove  was  past  hear 
ing  ;  he  had  tasted  his  enemy's  blood.  Once  War- 
rington  succeeded  in  parting  the  dogs,  but  the 
crush  prevented  his  making  the  separation  com 
plete.  Instantly  they  were  at  it  again.  The  police 
made  superhuman  efforts  to  arrive  before  it  was 
all  over.  The  fight,  however,  came  to  an  end  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  begun.  Jove  found  his  grip. 
But  for  the  broad  collar  on  McQuade's  dog  the 
animal  would  have  been  throttled  then  and  there. 

McQuade  lost  his  temper  and  his  discretion.  He 
kicked  Jove  cruelly  in  the  side,  at  the  very  moment 
when  Warrington  had  succeeded  in  breaking  the 
grip.  Bennington  thrust  McQuade  back  violently, 
and  he  would  have  fallen  but  for  the  dense  pack 
bolstering  him  up. 

"I'll  remember  that  kick,  Mr.  McQuade,"  said 
Warrington,  white  in  the  face. 

"I  don't  think  you'll  be  mayor  of  Herculaneum, 
Mr.  Warrington,"  replied  McQuade,  glaring  ven 
omously  at  the  man  who  had  brushed  him  aside  so 
easily. 

"Perhaps  not,  Mr.  McQuade,"  said  Warring- 
ton;  "but  at  any  rate  there'll  be  a  reckoning  for 
that  kick.  You've  been  trying  for  months  to  bring 
350 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

these  dogs  together.  You  have  finally  succeeded, 
and  your  dog  has  been  licked  soundly.  You  ought 
to  be  satisfied." 

Warrington  took  Jove  under  his  arm  and 
pressed  toward  the  door,  followed  by  Bennington, 
who  was  also  in  a  fine  rage.  The  dog,  bloody  and 
excited,  still  struggled,  though  the  brutal  kick  had 
winded  him. 

McQuade  was  no  fool.  He  saw  that  if  War 
rington  left  this  \vay  the  impression  would  not  be 
favorable  to  the  boss  contractor.  So  he  made  haste 
to  approach  Warrington. 

"Hold  on  there,  Warrington.  I  apologize  for 
kicking  your  dog.  I  admit  I  was  excited ;  and  my 
dog  was  getting  licked.  I  am  sorry." 

"All  right,  Mr.  McQuade,"  said  Warrington, 
who  would  have  preferred  leaving,  minus  any 
apology.  He  understood  perfectly  well  Mc- 
Quade's  reason  for  bending. 

"By  George !"  whispered  Bennington,  "I'd  give 
a  thousand  for  one  good  punch  at  that  ruffian's 
head.  Brute,  double-dealing  brute !  Look  out  for 
him  after  this,  Dick." 

"I  can  take  care  of  myself.  Officer,  will  you 
kindly  get  a  carriage  for  me?" 

"Sure,  Mr.  Warrington,"  said  the  policeman. 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

The  two  managed  to  get  out.  In  fact,  every 
body  was  moving  toward  the  exits.  They  had 
forgotten  Mr.  Rudolph,  who  completed  his  effort 
before  a  two-thirds  empty  hall.  They  say  that  he 
went  back  to  his  hotel  that  night  disgusted  with 
humanity  and,  mayhap,  with  the  fact  that  the  fight 
had  not  occurred  nearer  the  stage.  Orators  are 
human  also. 

As  Warrington  followed  Bennington  into  the 
carriage  the  door  closed  and  a  head  was  thrust 
inside  the  open  window. 

"Don't  forget  me  when  you're  mayor,  Mr.  War 
rington,"  said  Bill  Osborne. 

"Well  ?"  Warrington  was  in  no  mood  for  ban 
alities. 

Bill  glanced  hastily  from  side  to  side,  then  said, 
in  a  stage  whisper  that  sent  Bennington  into  a 
roar  of  laughter : 

"Isick'd'em!" 


352 


CHAPTER   XVI 

The  Republican  caucus  or  convention  was  un 
eventful.  Warrington  was  nominated  for  mayor 
of  Herculaneum,  with  little  or  no  opposition. 
Everybody  expected  it.  It  was,  in  the  phraseology 
of  the  day,  cut  and  dried.  There  was  no  surprise 
on  the  part  of  the  public.  Still,  Senator  Hender 
son  was  jubilant ;  he  had  nominated  his  man. 

The  young  candidate's  speech,  accepting  the 
nomination,  was  reproduced  in  full  in  all  the  news 
papers,  whose  editorial  writers  frankly  admitted 
that  the  speech  was  one  of  the  best  heard  in  Her 
culaneum  in  years.  Reporters  raked  up  anecdotes 
and  old  photographs ;  they  enlarged  upon  the  his 
tory  of  his  early  struggles  and  his  ultimate  suc 
cess  ;  and  long  despatches  flashed  over  the  wires. 
The  whole  continent  was  more  or  less  interested 
in  the  sudden  political  ambition  of  one  of  its  fa 
vorite  dramatic  writers. 

It  was  true  that  Warrington's  vanity  was 
touched.  It  always  touches  our  vanity  to  be  given 
something  for  which  we  have  made  no  struggle 
353 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

whatever.  It  was  something  to  be  followed  by 
curious  newsboys,  to  be  spoken  to  respectfully  by 
Tom,  Dick  and  Harry,  who  erstwhile  hadn't 
known  of  his  existence.  Warrington  was  human, 
and  he  laughed  at  his  vanity  even  as  it  was  being 
gratified. 

On  the  other  side  the  Democrats  perfunctorily 
nominated  Donnelly.  It  was  the  best  they  could 
do,  and  Donnelly  had  nothing  to  learn.  And  so 
the  fight  was  on.  Donnelly  went  everywhere;  so 
did  Warrington.  If  Donnelly  spoke  in  the  German 
district,  Warrington  spoke  to  the  Italians  and  in 
their  native  tongue.  Warrington  soon  learned  how 
to  shake  hands  in  the  manner  of  a  candidate, — to 
take  the  whole  hand  and  squeeze  it  soundly.  The 
coal-heaver  whose  hand  the  dramatist  grasped 
thereupon  returned  to  his  friends  with  the  report 
that  the  candidate  had  a  good  grip,  that  there  was 
nothing  namby-pamby  about  him,  for  all  his  dude 
clothes.  It  is  the  gift  of  Heaven  to  win  friends 
and  keep  them,  and  Warrington  possessed  this 
gift.  His  good-humored  smile,  his  ready  persi 
flage,  his  ease  in  all  environments,  and  his  common 
sense — these  were  his  bucklers.  He  spoke  in  dingy 
halls,  on  saloon  bars,  everywhere  and  anywhere 
and  at  all  times.  It  was  a  great  sight  to  see  him 
354 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

lightly  mount  a  bar  and  expound  his  politics,  his 
nostrils  assailed  by  cheap  tobacco  and  kerosene 
lamps.  If  Donnelly  opened  a  keg  of  beer,  War- 
rington  opened  two;  if  Donnelly  gave  a  picnic, 
Warrington  gave  two.  And  once  he  presented 
free  matinee  tickets  to  a  thousand  women.  This 
was  a  fine  stroke  of  policy.  When  a  man  wins  a 
woman  to  his  cause,  he  wins  a  valiant  champion. 
Here,  then,  were  a  thousand  tongues  in  his  service. 

His  work  put  enthusiasm  into  the  rank  and  file 
of  the  party,  and  soon  all  half-heartedness  dis 
appeared  and  dissensions  vanished.  He  furnished 
foot-ball  suits  for  the  newsboys,  torch-light  regi 
mentals  for  the  young  men's  Republican  clubs ;  he 
spent  his  own  money  freely  but  judiciously ;  and 
all  the  while  Donnelly  was  not  far  behind.  For 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  local  politics  the 
two  parties  went  to  work  with  solid  ranks.  It 
promised  to  be  a  great  campaign.  Warrington's 
influence  soon  broke  the  local  confines;  and  the 
metropolitan  newspapers  began  to  prophesy  that 
as  Herculaneum  went,  so  would  go  the  state. 

Warrington's  theatrical  manager  came  up  from 

New  York  and  said  he  wanted  that  play  at  once. 

The  dramatist  declared  that  there  would  be  no  play 

that  season.    The  manager  threatened  a  lawsuit; 

355 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

Warrington  remained  unmoved.  His  first  duty 
was  to  his  party;  after  the  first  Tuesday  in  No 
vember  he  would  see.  This  argument  found  its 
way  to  reportorial  ears,  with  the  result  that  it 
merely  added  to  the  young  candidate's  growing 
popularity. 

It  was  only  occasionally  that  he  saw  the  Ben- 
ningtons.  His  nights  were  devoted  to  speech- 
making  or  conferences.  Sometimes,  however,  on 
his  way  home  late  at  night,  he  would  walk  up  as 
far  as  the  old  house  and  look  up  at  the  windows ; 
and  if  he  saw  a  light  in  Patty's  room  he  would 
pause  for  a  few  minutes,  then  turn  about,  Jove 
limping  at  his  heels.  Patty  Bennington !  The  one 
idyl  in  his  noisy  life,  the  one  uplifting  influence! 
He  knew  that  he  was  not  making  this  fight  for 
clean  politics  because  his  heart  was  in  it,  but  be 
cause  Patty's  was.  It  is  thus  that  women  make 
the  world  better,  indirectly.  Once  or  twice  he  had 
seen  Patty  in  the  gallery  at  mass  meetings;  but, 
hurry  as  he  might,  he  never  could  get  around  to 
the  entrance  in  time  to  speak  to  her. 

As  for  McQuade,  he  knew  that  between  him 

and  that  gentleman  the  war  had  only  begun.   He 

was  constantly  wondering  how  McQuade  would 

act;  but  so  far  as  he  could  see,  McQuade  had 

356 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

absolutely  nothing  to  stand  on.  McQuade  would 
have  to  tunnel;  he  could  not  carry  on  the  war 
above  ground.  McQuade  would  never  forgive  the 
result  of  the  dog  fight.  There  had  been  so  much 
raillery  in  the  newspapers  that  McQuade  became 
furious  whenever  it  was  mentioned.  His  dog  was 
a  professional  fighter  and  had  made  three  kills, 
and  here  a  "pet"  had  given  him  his  first  licking. 
It  rankled,  and  none  of  McQuade's  friends  dared 
refer  to  it.  So  Warrington  remained  alert  and 
watchful ;  it  was  all  he  could  do. 

In  more  ways  than  one  Herculaneum  became 
widely  known.  Other  cities  realized  that  there 
was  a  peculiar  strike  in  progress,  upon  the  out 
come  of  which  depended  the  principles  of  union 
ism.  Here  was  an  employer  who  was  making 
preparations  to  destroy  his  shops,  regardless  of 
financial  loss,  regardless  of  public  opinion,  regard 
less  of  everything  but  his  right  to  employ  and  dis 
charge  whom  he  willed.  Every  great  employer  in 
the  country  focused  his  eye  upon  Herculaneum; 
every  union  leader  did  likewise.  The  outcome 
would  mean  a  kind  of  revolution. 

At  the  shops  the  men  had  placed  the  usual  sen 
tinels  around  the  limits,  ready  to  repel  the  ex 
pected  army  of  non-union  workmen.  But  a  day 
357 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

passed,  two,  three,  four ;  a  week,  then  ten  days ;  a 
month.  Not  a  single  strange  man  approached  the 
gates.  Not  one  man  among  them  had  any  infor 
mation  whatever  as  to  the  movements  of  their 
whilom  employer.  Scab  labor  never  showed  its 
head  above  the  horizon.  The  men  began  to  won 
der;  they  began  to  grow  restless.  But  Morrissy 
always  pacified  them  with  the  word  "wait." 

"Vigilance,  boys;  that's  the  word,"  said  the 
leader.  "The  moment  we  go  to  sleep  he'll  have  his 
men  inside." 

So  the  men  relaxed  none  of  their  watching, 
night  and  day.  It  was  rather  pathetic  to  see  the 
children  bringing  scanty  meals  to  the  guarding 
men.  They  were  being  misled,  that  was  all,  but 
they  had  to  find  that  out  themselves.  The  city's 
bill-boards  were  covered  with  "Boycott"  and 
"Unfair"  paper.  The  men  were  careful.  They 
made  no  effort  to  injure  anything;  they  made  no 
attempt  to  enter  the  shops ;  they  had  had  a  brush 
with  the  militia  once,  and  they  were  wise.  They 
could  beat  the  new  men  and  maim  them,  but  so 
long  as  they  did  not  touch  property  there  would 
be  no  call  for  the  militia.  They  waited.  Mean 
time  Morrissy  wore  a  new  diamond. 

One  day  a  cry  went  up. 
358 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Here's  the  scabs !  Here  they  come !" 

Word  was  sent  immediately  to  the  union's  head 
quarters. 

A  body  of  twenty-odd  men,  carrying  shovels 
and  pickaxes  and  dinner-pails,  moved  toward  the 
gates.  At  their  head  was  Bennington  himself.  He 
placed  the  great  key  in  the  lock  and  swung  the 
gates  inward.  The  men  passed  in  quickly.  Ben 
nington  was  last.  He  turned  for  a  moment  and 
gazed  calmly  at  the  threatening  faces  of  the  strik 
ers.  An  impulse  came  to  him. 

"Men,"  he  said,  "up  to  one  o'clock  this  noon 
these  gates  will  be  open  to  you.  Each  of  you  can 
take  up  your  work  where  you  left  it,  at  the  same 
wages,  at  the  same  hours.  This  is  the  last  chance. 
Later  you  will  learn  that  you  have  been  betrayed." 

"How  about  Chittenden  ?" 

"Chittenden  will  return  at  the  same  time  you 
do." 

"The  hell  he  will !  Let  him  show  his  British  face 
here,  and  we'll  change  it  so  his  mother  won't 
know  it." 

Bennington  went  inside  and  shut  the  gates. 
There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done.  He  did  not 
slam  the  gates  insolently,  as  some  men  would  have 
done ;  he  simply  shut  them. 

359 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

This  event  was  also  reported  at  headquarters. 
•That  afternoon  all  the  strikers  were  out  in  force. 
They  congregated  in  groups  and  talked  angrily. 
Two  policemen  patrolled  up  and  down.  Benning- 
ton  had  had  some  difficulty  in  securing  even  these. 
The  men  waited  for  the  first  sign  of  smoke  from 
the  chimneys,  but  none  came.  No  one  was  light 
ing  the  furnaces;  there  was  nothing  but  silence 
inside  the  shops.  There  was  no  possible  excuse  as 
yet  for  deeds  of  violence,  though  many  of  the 
more  turbulent  element  urged  riot  at  once.  What 
was  the  use  of  waiting?  In  the  afternoon  there 
appeared  some  fifty  more  strange  men.  These  car 
ried  tool-bags.  They  were  challenged.  They 
ignored  the  challenge  and  pushed  on  resolutely. 
For  the  first  time  blows  were  struck.  The  leader 
whirled  around. 

"Look  here,  men,  you're  making  a  big  mistake. 
Your  fists  won't  help  you.  We  are  going  inside, 
and  if  we  can't  go  in  peaceably,  why,  we'll  break 
some  heads  to  get  in.  We  have  all  been  sworn  in 
legally  as  deputy  police,  and  if  we  start  in  to  break 
heads  we  promise  to  do  it  thoroughly." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  in  there  ?"  demand 
ed  Morrissy. 

"None  of  your  business,  for  one  thing,"  an- 
36° 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

swered  the  burly  spokesman  of  the  interlopers. 
"I'll  add  this  much,  if  it  will  ease  your  minds: 
nobody's  going  to  step  into  your  jobs;  when  you 
went  out  you  left  your  jobs  behind." 

"So  you  fellows  are  what  they  call  strike-break 
ers,  are  you  ?"  asked  Morrissy  wrathfully. 

"Oh,  we  aren't  going  to  break  your  strike,  my 
friend.  You  can  call  this  a  strike  as  long  as  you 
please,  so  far  as  we're  concerned.  We've  got  work 
to  do  here,  though,  and  we  are  going  to  do  it." 

"Are  you  union  men  ?" 

"Not  so  you'd  notice  it,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"All  right.  You  fellows  won't  be  here  long." 

"Stop  us  if  you  can.  Now,  stand  aside!"  com 
manded  the  stranger  menacingly. 

"Let  'em  by,  men,"  cried  Morrissy.  "Don't 
touch  'em  yet.  You  just  leave  it  to  me.  I  know 
a  way  and  a  good  one,  too.  You  just  leave  it  to 
me." 

The  angry  strikers  divided  ranks  and  the  stran 
gers  entered  the  shops. 

Morrissy  directed  his  steps  to  McQuade's  office, 
and  together  they  paid  a  visit  to  the  mayor. 

"Look  here,  Donnelly,  did  you  permit  Ben- 
nington  to  swear  in  deputy  police?"  asked  Mc- 
Quade. 

361 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Deputy  police?  Bennington  has  no  deputy 
police  from  this  place,"  answered  Donnelly  hotly. 

"Well,  all  we  know  is  that  he  has  them," 
snapped  Morrissy. 

"Then  he  has  gone  directly  to  the  governor." 

"The  governor  ?" 

McQuade  and  Morrissy  looked  at  each  other 
blankly. 

"He  has  that  prerogative,"  said  Donnelly. 

"But  he  wouldn't  dare !" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  would.  It's  his  last  term;  he  is 
without  further  political  ambition;  he  can  act  as 
he  incases,  in  the  face  of  public  condemnation. 
There's  one  thing  left,  though/' 

"What?" 

"Injunction,"  said  Donnelly  tersely. 

"With  Republican  judges  on  the  benches?"  re 
plied  McQuade  ironically. 

"And  you  can't  enjoin  private  property,"  added 
Morrissy. 

"I'll  send  for  Bennington,"  Donnelly  volun 
teered.  "Perhaps  I  can  talk  him  into  reason." 

"It's  up  to  you  to  block  this  move  somehow," 
said  McQuade.  "It  means  the  labor  vote.  And 
we've  got  to  have  that." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can.  I  can  stop  his  permit  to 
362 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

tear  down  the  building,  if  he  really  intends  to  do 
that." 

"It  will  be  a  good  day's  work  for  you." 

"I'll  act  this  very  afternoon." 

Once   outside   the   mayor's   office,    McQuade 
turned  to  Morrissy. 

"Where's  that  receipt  you  promised  on  oath  ?" 

"Haven't  you  got  it?"  asked  Morrissy,  feigning 
surprise. 

"No,  and  I  doubt  you  sent  it.   But  I  want  it  at 
once,  and  no  more  monkeying." 

"Well,  I  sent  it.    I  mailed  it  to  your  office. 
You've  overlooked  it." 

"Come  over  to  my  office  now  and  make  it  out," 
McQuade  insisted. 

"You've  got  plenty  of  grips  on  me  without 
that,"  protested  Morrissy  reproachfully. 

"But  I  want  this  one,  and  I'm  going  to  have  it." 

"I'll   go   to   your   office.     Will   Donnelly  be 
game?" 

"He  will  if  he  knows  which  side  his  bread  is 
buttered  on,"  contemptuously. 

The  two  went  up  to  McQuade's  office.   It  was 
deserted. 

"The  girl's  gone  this   afternoon,"   said   Mc 
Quade,  "but  I  can  handle  the  typewriter  myself/' 
363 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"All  I've  got  to  say  is  that  I  mailed  you  a  re 
ceipt.  What  do  you  want  it  for?"  with  a  final 
protest. 

"I've  got  an  idea  in  my  head,  Morrissy.  I  want 
that  receipt.  Some  day  you  may  take  it  into  your 
head  to  testify  that  I  offered  you  a  thousand  to 
bring  on  the  strike  at  Bennington's.  That  would 
put  me  in  and  let  you  out,  because  I  can't  prove 
that  I  gave  the  cash  to  you.  Business  is  business." 

"Hell !  Any  one  would  think,  to  hear  you  talk, 
that  I  had  threatened  to  betray." 

"Every  man  to  his  own  skin,"  replied  McQuade 
philosophically.  He  then  sat  down  before  the 
typewriter.  There  were  two  blank  sheets  in  the 
roller,  with  a  carbon  between.  The  girl  had  left 
her  machine  all  ready  for  the  morrow's  work. 
McQuade  picked  out  his  sentence  laboriously. 

"There,  sign  that." 

The  paper  read : 

"I,  James  Morrissy,  the  undersigned,  do  hereby 
declare  that  I  have  received  $1,000,  in  two  sums  of 
$500  each,  from  Daniel  McQuade,  these  sums  being 
payment  agreed  upon  for  my  bringing  about  the 
strike  at  the  Bennington  shops." 

Morrissy  looked  at  the  boss  incredulously. 
"I  say,  Mac,  have  you  gone  crazy?"  he  cried. 
364 


"Do  you  want  evidence  like  this  lying  around  in 
your  safe?  It's  the  penitentiary  for  both  of  us 
if  any  one  finds  that." 

"I  know  what  I  am  doing,"  McQuade  respond 
ed  quietly,  as  indeed  he  did. 

"But  look ;  you've  got  the  strike  and  I've  got  the 
cash ;  that  makes  us  quits." 

"Sign  it,"  was  all  McQuade  replied  to  this  argu 
ment. 

"All  right.  What's  bad  for  me  is  bad  for  you," 
and  without  further  ado  Morrissy  affixed  his  fist 
to  the  sheet. 

"Here's  the  duplicate  for  you." 

Morrissy  lighted  a  match  and  set  fire  to  the 
sheet ;  he  stamped  on  the  ashes  with  grim  satisfac 
tion. 

"Not  for  mine,"  with  a  laugh.  "You're  wel 
come  to  yours." 

McQuade  folded  his  deliberately  and  put  it 
away  in  the  safe.  The  sheet  of  carbon  paper  he 
crumpled  into  a  ball  and  tossed  into  the  waste- 
basket.  We  all  commit  blunders  at  one  time  or 
another,  and  McQuade  had  just  committed  his. 

"That's  all,  Morrissy.  I  think  I  can  trust  you 
fully.  I  mean  no  harm,  boy;  'tis  only  self-pres 
ervation." 

365 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Oh,  so  long  as  your  name's  on  it  there's  no 
kick  coming  from  me;  only  I  never  saw  you  do 
such  a  fool  thing  before.  Anything  else  to-day?" 

"No.  You  might  keep  tab  on  that  fool  Bolles. 
He's  been  drunk  ever  since  he  came  back  from 
New  York.  And  he  doesn't  know  how  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut." 

"I'll  keep  an  eye  on  him." 

"He's  the  only  man  we  have  who  can  handle 
the  dagos.  I'll  see  you  up  at  Dutch  Hall  to-night. 
Donnelly  is  making  a  speech  there,  and  we'll  open 
a  few  kegs  of  beer  for  the  boys." 

When  Morrissy  was  gone  McQuade  laughed 
softly  and  went  to  the  safe  again.  He  proceeded 
to  do  to  his  receipt  exactly  what  Morrissy  had 
done  to  his — burn  it.  So  long  as  Morrissy  be 
lieved  that  McQuade  held  his  signature,  so  long 
might  Morrissy  be  trusted.  It  was  only  an  idea, 
but  it  proved  that  the  boss  knew  his  lieutenants 
tolerably  well. 

"The  blackleg  would  sell  the  tomb  off  his 
father's  grave,"  he  mused,  brushing  the  ashes 
from  his  clothes. 

Let  Bennington  rip  up  his  shops ;  all  the  better 
for  Donnelly's  chances  of  reelection.  The  labor 
ing  party  would  be  sure  to  desert  Warrington's 
366 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

standard,  since  he  was  a  personal  and  intimate 
friend  of  Bennington  the  oppressor.  He  laughed 
again  sinisterly.  Presently  he  would  have  them 
all  by  the  throats.  He  would  watch  them  squirm, 
too.  This  young  fool  Warrington;  he  was  the 
first  real  obstacle  he  (McQuade)  had  encountered 
in  his  checkered  career.  Threats  could  not  move 
him.  He  had  believed  at  the  start  that  he  could 
scare  him  away  from  the  convention ;  but  the  foci 
wouldn't  be  scared.  And  his  damned  dog ! 

"He'll  never  reach  the  City  Hall,  not  while  I 
live,  damn  his  impudence!  That  woman,  though, 
is  no  fool.  She's  kept  her  mouth  shut.  They  don't 
always  do  that.  Well,  I  can  write  more  than  re 
ceipts  on  the  machine.  I'll  ruin  them  both  if  I 
can.  Ordered  me  out  of  the  house,  and  I  honestly 
liked  the  woman !  But  I'll  square  accounts  pres 
ently." 

Meanwhile  Donnelly  set  the  wires  humming. 
He  finally  got  Bennington  at  the  shops. 

"This  is  Mr.  Bennington.  Who  is  it  and  what 
is  wanted  ?" 

"This  is  the  mayor  talking." 
"Oh!  Well,  what  is  it,  Mr.  Donnelly?" 
"I  must  see  you  at  once  in  my  office.   This  is  an 
urgent  request.  I  can't  explain  the  matter  over  the 
367 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

wire.  But  you'll  do  yourself  and  me  a  great  favor 
if  you'll  come  into  town  at  once." 

"Very  important?" 

"Extremely  so." 

"I  shall  be  there  at  five  o'clock." 

"Thanks.  I  shall  await  you."  Donnelly  hung 
up  the  receiver,  very  well  satisfied. 

Bennington  understood.  Politics  was  going  to 
take  a  hand  in  the  game.  After  all,  it  was  best  to 
take  the  bull  by  the  horns  at  once  and  have  it  over 
with.  He  knew  how  well  he  had  fortified  himself 
against  any  political  machinery.  So,  promptly  at  a 
quarter  to  five,  he  departed,  leaving  explicit  orders 
with  his  subordinates.  The  strikers  moved  aside 
for  him,  muttering  and  grumbling,  but  they  made 
no  effort  to  impede  his  progress.  There  were 
groans  and  catcalls,  but  that  was  all.  He  looked 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  but  presented 
his  back  to  them  fearlessly.  Chittenden,  upon 
Bennington's  advice,  had  gone  to  New  York.  The 
strikers  would  have  used  him  roughly,  could  they 
have  laid  hands  on  him. 

Arriving  in  town,  Bennington  went  at  once  to 
the  City  Hall  and  straight  to  the  mayor's  private 
office. 

"Well,  Mr.  Donnelly  ?"  he  began,  his  hat  on  his 
368 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

handsome  head  and  his  cane  behind  his  back, 
neither  offensive  nor  defensive. 

Donnelly  closed  the  door  leading  to  the  clerk's 
office  and  came  back  to  his  desk.  He  waved  his 
hand  toward  a  chair.  If  he  could  bend  this  young 
hot-head,  it  would  be  a  victory  worth  while,  po 
litically. 

"In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Bennington,  aren't  you 
going  a  little  too  hard  on  the  men?" 

"That  was  their  lookout ;  they  had  every  chance 
to  think  the  matter  over,  to  examine  all  sides  of 
the  question." 

"You  went  personally  to  the  governor  for  dep 
uty  police.  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me  ?" 

"The  governor  is  a  personal  friend  of  mine." 

"I  don't  believe  that  I  have  been  found  lacking 
in  justice,"  said  Donnelly  thoughtfully. 

"I  can't  say  that  you  have.  But  I  was  in  a 
hurry,  and  could  not  wait  for  the  local  machinery 
to  move." 

"You  have  placed  armed  men  in  your  shops 
without  a  justifiable  cause." 

"The  men  are  mechanics,  sworn  in  for  their 
own  self-protection." 

Donnelly  saw  that  he  was  making  no  impres 
sion. 

369 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"These  men,  then,  are  to  tear  down  your 
shops  ?"  not  without  admiration. 

"Well,  they  are  there  to  dismantle  it." 

"That  building  must  not  go  down,  Mr.  Ben- 
nington." 

"  'Must  not'  ?  Do  I  understand  you  to  say 
'must  not'  ?" 

"Those  words  exactly." 

"It  is  private  property,  Mr.  Donnelly;  it  was 
not  organized  under  corporation  laws." 

"You  can  not  destroy  even  private  property,  in 
a  cit)'',  without  a  legal  permit." 

"I  have  that." 

"And  I  shall  call  a  special  meeting  of  the  Com 
mon  Council  to  rescind  your  permit." 

"Do  so.  I  shall  tear  it  down,  nevertheless.  I 
shall  do  what  I  please  with  what  is  my  own." 
Bennington  balanced  on  his  heels. 

"The  law  is  there." 

"I  shall  break  it,  if  need  says  must,"  urbanely. 

Donnelly  surveyed  the  end  of  his  dead  cigar. 

"The  men  will  become  violent." 

"Their  violence  will  in  no  wise  hinder  me,  so 
long  as  they  confine  it  to  the  shops.  Even  then  I 
shall  call  upon  you  for  police  protection." 

"And  if  I  should  not  give  it?" 
370 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Just  now  I  am  sure  you  will.  For  the  mayor 
of  Herculaneum  to  refuse  me  my  rights  would  be 
a  nice  morsel  for  the  Republican  party." 

Donnelly  passed  over  this. 

"I  wish  to  protect  the  rights  of  the  workman, 
just  as  you  wish  to  protect  yours." 

"What  are  the  workman's  rights?" 

Donnelly  did  not  reply. 

"Well,  I'll  reply  for  you,  then.  His  right  is  to 
sell  his  labor  to  the  highest  bidder ;  his  right  is  to 
work  where  he  pleases ;  for  what  hours  he  desires ; 
his  right  is  to  reject  abusive  employers  and  to  find 
those  congenial ;  his  right  is  to  produce  as  little  or 
as  much  as  he  thinks  best ;  his  right  is  to  think  for 
himself,  to  act  for  himself,  to  live  for  himself." 

"You  admit  all  this,  then?"  asked  Donnelly  in 
astonishment. 

"I  have  never  so  much  as  denied  a  single  right 
that  belongs  to  the  workman." 

"Then  what  the  devil  is  all  this  row  about?" 

"If  the  workman  has  his  rights,  shall  not  the 
employer  have  his  ?" 

Donnelly  mused.  He  would  not  be  able  to  do 
anything  with  this  plain-spoken  man. 

"But  the  workman  steps  beyond.  He  has  no 
right  to  dictate  to  his  employer  as  to  what  his 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

rights  shall  be.  Where  there  is  no  amity  between 
capital  and  labor  there  is  never  any  justice;  one 
or  the  other  becomes  a  despot.  The  workman  has 
his  rights,  but  these  end  where  the  other  man's 
rights  begin.  He  shall  not  say  that  another  man 
shall  not  seek  work,  shall  not  sell  his  labor  for 
what  he  can  get ;  he  has  no  right  to  forbid  another 
man's  choosing  freedom;  he  has  no  right  to  say 
that  a  manufacturer  shall  produce  only  so  much." 

"Well,  I've  only  to  say,"  said  Donnelly,  hedg 
ing  before  this  clear  argument,  "I've  only  to  say, 
if  the  men  become  violent,  look  eft  for  yourself." 

"I  shall  appeal  to  you  for  civic  or  military  pro 
tection  ;  if  you  refuse  it,  to  the  governor ;  if  politics 
there  interferes,  I  shall  appeal  to  Washington, 
where  neither  your  arm  nor  McQuade's  can  reach. 
I  understand  the  causes  back  of  this  strike;  they 
are  personal,  and  I'm  man  enough  to  look  out  for 
myself.  But  if  politics  starts  to  work,  there  will 
be  a  trouble  to  settle  in  the  courts.  You  may  not 
know  the  true  cause  of  this  strike,  Mr.  Donnelly, 
but  I  do.  The  poor  deluded  men  believe  it  to  be 
the  English  inventor,  but  he  is  only  a  blind.  Had 
you  really  wished  to  do  me  a  favor,  you  would 
have  spoken  to  the  men  before  they  went  out  on 
this  silly  strike.  But  I  am  master  of  what  is  mine, 
372 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

and  I  shall  tear  down  that  building.  I  shall  tol 
erate  no  interference  from  any  man.  The  work 
man  has  his  rights ;  this  is  one  of  my  rights,  and  I 
intend  to  use  it." 

"It's  your  business.  If  you  are  fool  enough  to 
kill  a  golden  goose,  it's  no  affair  of  mine.  But  I 
shall  rescind  your  permit,  however.  I  believe  it  to 
be  my  duty." 

"Call  your  Council  together,  Mr.  Donnelly.  You 
can  not  get  a  quorum  together  earlier  than  to 
morrow  night;  and  by  that  time  I  shall  have  the 
work  done.  You  say  you  will  not  afford  me  pro 
tection.  Very  well ;  if  the  men  become  violent  and 
burn  the  shops,  I  shall  be  relieved  of  the  expense 
of  tearing  them  down.  Good  afternoon." 

Donnelly  sat  in  his  chair  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  silent  and  thoughtful.  Suddenly  he  slapped 
his  thigh. 

"I  don't  know  what  McQuade  has  against  that 
man,  but,  by  the  Lord !  he  is  a  man !" 

That  night  the  strikers  received  several  bottles 
of  whisky  and  a  keg  of  beer.  The  source  of  these 
gifts  was  unknown.  Some  of  the  more  thoughtful 
were  for  smashing  the  stuff,  but  the  turbulent  ma 
jority  overruled  them.  They  began  to  drink  and 
jest.  They  did  so  with  impunity.  For  some  reason 
373 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

the  police  had  been  withdrawn.  The  hammering 
inside  the  shops  puzzled  them,  but  they  still  clung 
to  the  idea  that  all  this  clamor  was  only  a  ruse  to 
frighten  them  into  surrendering.  From  the  in 
terior  the  pounding  gradually  approached  as  far 
as  the  walls  of  the  courtyard.  At  midnight  one 
of  these  walls  went  thundering  to  the  ground.  A 
few  minutes  later  another  fell.  The  strikers 
grouped  together,  dismayed. 

"By  God,  boys,"  one  of  them  yelled,  "he's  tear 
ing  it  down !" 

In  that  moment,  and  only  then,  did  they  realize 
that  they  had  been  dealing  with  a  man  whose  will 
and  word  were  immutable.  They  saw  all  their 
dreams  of  triumph  vanish  in  the  dust  that  rose 
from  the  crumbling  brick  and  plaster.  And  dis 
may  gave  way  to  insensate  rage.  It  would  only  be 
helping  Bennington  to  riot  and  burn  the  shops,  so 
now  to  maim  and  kill  the  men  who,  at  hire,  were 
tearing  down  these  walls. 

"Come  on,  boys !  We'll  help  the  scabs  finish  the 
work !  Come  on !" 

There  was  now  a  great  breach  in  the  wall.  Men 

moving  to  and  fro  could  be  seen.    The  strikers 

snatched  up  bricks  and  clubs  and  dashed  toward 

this.    But  ere  they  had  set  foot  on  the  rubbish 

374 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

they  stopped.    Half  a  dozen  resolute  men  faced 
them.  They  were  armed. 

"That's  far  enough,  boys,"  warned  a  powerful 
voice.  "I  told  you  we  have  all  been  sworn  in  as 
deputy  police,  with  all  the  laws  of  the  state  back 
of  us.  The  first  man  that  steps  across  that  pile  of 
bricks  will  go  to  the  hospital,  the  second  man  to 
the  undertaker." 


375 


CHAPTER   XVII 

Ah,  the  vanity  of  Dawn!  Like  a  Venus  she 
rises  from  her  bath  of  opalescent  mists  and  dons 
a  gown  of  pearl.  But  this  does  not  please  the 
coquette.  Her  fancy  turns  from  pearl  to  green,  to 
amber,  to  pink,  to  blue  and  gold  and  rose,  an  in 
exhaustible  wardrobe.  She  blushes,  she  frowns, 
she  hesitates;  she  is  like  a  woman  in  love.  She 
casts  abroad  her  dewy  jewels  on  the  leaves,  the 
blades  of  grass,  the  tangled  laces  of  the  spiders, 
the  drab  cold  stones.  She  ruffles  the  clouds  on  the 
face  of  the  sleeping  waters;  she  sweeps  through 
the  forests  with  a  low  whispering  sound,  taking  a 
tithe  of  the  resinous  perfumes.  Always  and  always 
she  decks  herself  for  the  coming  of  Phoebus,  but, 
woman-like,  at  first  sight  of  him  turns  and  flies. 

Dawn  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  atmos 
pheric  changes,  but  the  vision  is  a  rarity  to  the 
majority  of  us. 

Warrington  was  up  and  away  on  his  hunter 
before  Phoebus  sent  his  warning  flashing  over  the 
hills.  He  took  the  now  familiar  road,  and  urged 
376 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

his  animal  vigorously.  Fine!  Not  a  bit  of  dust 
rose  from  the  road,  dew-wet  and  brown.  The 
rime  of  the  slight  frost  shone  from  the  fences  and 
grasses  and  stacked  corn,  like  old  age  that  strikes 
in  a  single  night.  Here  and  there  a  farmer  could 
be  seen  pottering  about  the  yards,  or  there  was 
a  pale  curl  of  smoke  rising  from  the  chimney.  The 
horse,  loving  these  chill,  exhilarating  October 
mornings,  went  drumming  along  the  road.  Occa 
sionally  Warrington  would  rise  in  the  stirrups  and 
gaze  forward  over  this  elevation  or  that,  and 
sometimes  behind  him.  No.  For  three  mornings 
he  had  ridden  out  this  old  familiar  way,  but  alone. 
The  hunger  in  his  eyes  remained  unsatisfied. 

For  the  first  time  in  years  he  turned  into  a  cer 
tain  familiar  fork  in  the  road,  and  all  his  youth 
came  back  to  him  as  vividly  as  though  it  had  been 
but  yesterday.  Half  a  mile  up  this  fork  was  the 
rambling  old  farm-house.  It  was  unchanged.  The 
clapboards  were  still  stained  with  rust,  the  barns 
were  still  a  dingy  red,  the  stone  and  rail  fences 
needed  the  same  repairs.  Nothing  had  changed 
there  but  the  masters.  And  under  that  roof  he  had 
made  his  first  feeble  protest  against  life;  he  had 
dreamed  those  valiant  dreams  of  youth  that  never 
come  true,  no  matter  how  successful  one  may  be- 
377 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

come  in  after  life.  Every  waking  means  an  illu 
sion  gone,  another  twig  pruned  from  the  tree  of 
ardent  fancy ;  and  when  one  is  old  there  is  neither 
shade  nor  shelter. 

Warrington  stopped  his  horse.  He  had  no  desire 
to  ride  closer ;  he  could  see  everything  well  enough 
from  where  he  sat.  Rosy  apples  twinkled  in  the 
orchard  on  the  hill,  and  golden  pumpkins  glistened 
afield,  for  by  now  Phoebus  had  come  to  his  own. 
How  many  dawns  had  he  seen  from  yonder  win 
dows,  in  summer  and  winter,  in  autumn  and 
spring?  How  many  times  had  he  gone  dreaming 
to  the  markets  over  this  road?  It  was  beyond 
counting.  Had  any  of  those  particular  dreams 
come  true  ?  Not  that  he  could  recollect,  for  he  had 
never  dreamed  of  being  a  successful  dramatist; 
that  good  fortune  had  been  thrust  upon  him.  He 
tried  to  picture  his  father  walking  toward  the 
fields ;  it  was  too  remote.  His  mother?  Of  her  he 
could  recollect  positively  nothing.  But  the  aunt, 
he  saw  her  everywhere, — in  the  garden,  in  the 
doorway,  in  the  window,  by  the  old  well.  Now  she 
was  culling  hollyhocks  along  the  stone  wall,  now 
she  was  coming  down  the  hill  with  an  apron  filled 
with  apples,  now  she  was  canning  preserves  and 
chili  sauce  in  the  hot  kitchen,  or  the  steel-rimmed 
378 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

spectacles  were  shining  over  the  worn  pages  of  the 
New  Testament  at  night. 

What  was  the  use?  To-day  is  alien  to  yester 
day;  an  hour  separates  as  definitely  as  eternity. 
There  was  nothing  there  for  him ;  so  he  wheeled 
and  rode  back  toward  the  city,  conning  over  a 
speech  he  was  to  make  that  i:  ight.  Since  Patty  had 
not  ridden  this  way,  the  zest  of  the  morning's  ride 
was  gone.  Which  road  did  s*:e  take  now  ?  To  the 
west,  to  the  south,  to  the  north  round  the  lake? 
Twice  the  night  before  he  had  started  for  the  tele 
phone  to  inquire,  but  had  not  taken  down  the 
receiver.  Was  he  afraid  ?  He  could  not  say.  And 
afraid  of  what?  Still  less  could  he  tell.  Three 
months  ago  he  had  called  her  Patty,  had  jested 
and  laughed  with  her ;  and  now  he  hesitated  to  call 
her  up  by  telephone.  No,  he  was  not  afraid  of 
Patty;  he  was  simply  afraid  of  himself.  For  he 
realized  this — that  in  the  moment  he  spoke  to  her 
alone  his  love  would  spring  from  his  lips  like  a 
torrent ;  nothing  could  stop  it ;  and  he  was  not  of 
that  supreme  courage  at  present  that  spurs  the 
lover  to  put  it  to  the  touch  to  win  or  lose  it  all. 

So,  then,  he  rode  back  to  the  city,  hugging  his 
doubt  and  his  love,  with  frequent  lucid  intervals 
that  were  devoted  to  his  forthcoming  speech. 
379 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

When  the  battle  was  over,  when  he  had  won  or 
lost,  then  he  would  go  to  her  and  drink  the  cup, 
bitter  or  sweet. 

Patty  had  not  spent  the  night  in  comfort;  her 
head  had  rolled  from  one  pillow  to  another,  and 
the  cases  were  not  always  diy.  Indeed,  it  had  been 
some  time  since  she  had  pressed  her  cheek  tran 
quilly  upon  a  pillow.  Night  is  ei.lier  sweetest 
or  most  wretched ;  one  spends  it  recounting  one's 
joys  or  one's  sorrows.  Patty  was  unhappy;  and 
leave  it  to  youth  to  gain  the  full  meed  of  misery. 
Youth  has  not  the  philosophy  of  matured  age  to 
cast  into  the  balance.  Satisfaction  in  this  work 
aday  world  is  only  momentary.  One  is  never 
wholly  satisfied ;  there  is  always  some  hidden  barb. 
The  child  wears  the  mother's  skirts  enviously 
while  the  mother  mourns  her  youth.  Expectation 
leads  us  to  the  dividing  line  of  life,  and  from  there 
retrospection  carries  us  to  the  end.  Experience 
teaches  us  that  fire  burns  and  that  water  quenches ; 
beyond  this  we  have  learned  but  little. 

This  morning  Patty  was  up  with  the  dawn.  She 
did  not  trouble  to  wake  the  groom,  but  saddled 
and  bridled  the  horse  herself.  She  mounted  and 
rode  quietly  into  the  street.  She  did  not  glance  at 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Warrington's  house  while  approaching  or  passing 
it,  but  once  she  had  left  it  in  the  rear  she  turned 
quickly,  flushing  as  if  she  had  caught  herself  in 
some  weakness.  She  di'rected  the  horse  toward 
the  west,  crossing  the  city  before  she  reached  the 
open  country.  Here  the  west  wind,  young  and 
crisp,  blew  away  the  last  vestige  of  heaviness  from 
her  eyes.  She  urged  the  horse  into  a  canter  and 
maintained  this  gdt  for  a  mile  or  more.  Then  she 
reined  in  to  a  walk. 

Three  weeks!  And  all  this  time  she  had  not 
even  breathed  a  word  of  it,  but  had  hugged  the 
viper  to  her  heart  in  silence.  She  dropped  the 
reins  on  the  neck  of  the  horse  and  tcok  a  letter 
from  the  pocket  of  her  riding-coat.  How  many 
times  had  she  read  it  ?  How  many  times  had  fury 
and  rage  and  despair  flashed  from  her  eyes  as  she 
read  it  ?  She  hated  him ;  she  hated  her.  There  was 
neither  honesty  nor  goodness  in  the  world ;  those 
who  preached  it  lied.  Yes,  yes!  There  was  one. 
John,  dear,  nobis  John,  he  at  any  rate  was  honest. 
But  it  was  all  acting  on  her  part,  acting,  acting. 
She  had  married  John  as  a  convenience ;  she  had 
made  use  of  his  honest  love  as  a  cloak.  The  des 
picable  creature!  And  yet,  when  in  her  presence, 
so  great  was  her  charm  and  magnetism,  Patty 


doubted.  After  all,  it  was  an  anonymous  letter, 
and  nothing  is  more  vile.  Eut  who  can  say  to  this 
viper  Doubt — "Vanish!"  It  goes,  it  goes  again 
and  again ;  which  is  to  say  it  always  returns.  Long 
ago  she  would  have  confronted  her  brother's  wife 
with  this  letter,  had  not  John  been  in  the  heart  of 
his  battle  at  the  shops.  For  the  present  he  had 
enough  trouble.  And  yet,  to  see  that  woman  with 
John,  an  angel  might  Le  deceived.  To  see  her  weep 
and  laugh  over  him,  to  see  her  touch  him  with  her 
hands,  to  caress  him  with  her  eyes,  to  be  tender 
and  strong  at  his  side.  .  .  .  Could  anybody  be 
so  wicked?  True,  her  transgression  had  been 
made,  according  to  this  letter,  before  John  had 
married  her;  but  this  lessened  the  enormity  of  it 
none  in  Patty's  eyes. 

"Oh,  I  was  so  happy,  and  now  I  am  so  miser 
able!"  murmured  the  girl,  pressing  her  hand  to 
her  throat,  which  seemed  to  stifle  her. 

She  read  the  letter  again,  through  blurred 
vision.  It  was  horrible. 

One  who  takes  a  deep  interest  in  your  future 
welfare  finds  it  a  duty  to  warn  you  against  Richard 
Warrington,  for  whom  it  is  being  said  you  have 
developed  a  strong  sentiment.  It  is  well  known  that 
he  drank  deeply  at  one  time  and  lived  the  life  of  a 
debauchee.  Beware  of  the  woman,  also,  whom  you 
382 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

call  sister.  The  writer  does  not  offer  anything  detri 
mental  to  her  married  life,  but  it  is  known  that  she 
was  practically  Warrington's  mistress  before  she 
married  your  splendid  brother.  She  was  seen  fre 
quently  to  enter  his  apartments  at  night,  and  the 
writer  can  furnish  abundant  proof  that  she  was  seen  t 
to  leave  his  apartments  one  morning.  This  is  not1 
penned  with  malice.  It  is  simply  that  the  writer 
knows  and  admires  you  and  can  not  stand  passively 
by  and  see  you  humiliated  by  the  attentions  of  a  man 
who  is  unworthy  to  lace  your  shoes.  As  for  your 
sister-in-law,  I  have  no  desire  to  meddle.  Confront 
both  her  and  Warrington,  if  the  truth  of  the  above 
statement  is  doubted  by  you. 

Upon  these  last  words  depended  Patty's  atti 
tude.  It  must  be  true.  Whoever  had  written  this 
abominable  letter  could  write  plain  English,  de 
spite  the  disguised  hand.  Patty  recognized  that  it 
was  disguised.  The  capitals  differed,  so  did  the 
tails  of  the  y's  and  f 's ;  the  backhand  slant  was  not 
always  slanting,  but  frequently  leaned  toward  the 
opposite  angle.  She  had  but  to  confront  them !  It 
seemed  simple ;  but  to  bring  herself  to  act  upon  it ! 
She  reviewed  all  the  meetings  between  Kate  andf 
Warrington.  Never  had  her  eyes  discerned  evi 
dence  of  anything  other  than  frank  good-fellow 
ship.  She  searched  painfully;  there  was  not  a 
single  glance,  a  single  smile  upon  which  she  could 
build  a  guilty  alliance.  And  yet  this  writer  af- 
383 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

firmed  .  .  .  Oh,  it  was  monstrous!  Those  ru 
mors  she  had  heard  months  ago!  The  telephone 
call  from  McQuade !  Ah,  that  telephone  call !  Had 
Kate  been  guilty  would  she  have  confided  to  her, 
Patty?  She  seemed  to  be  pulled,  now  forward, 
now  backward.  McQuade  knew  something,  the 
wretch!  but  what?  This  letter  had  never  been 
written  by  him.  A  man  would  have  used  a  pro 
noun,  third  person,  masculine;  he  would  have 
shown  some  venom  back  of  the  duplicity  that  af 
firmed  an  interest  in  her  welfare. 

The  tears  dried  quickly ;  the  heat  of  her  renewed 
rage  burned  them  up.  She  set  about  to  do  some 
thing  she  had  not  thought  of  doing  before — inves 
tigating.  She  held  the  note-paper  to  the  sun.  The 
water-mark  of  a  fashionable  paper  manufacturer 
was  easily  observable.  Men  did  not  write  on  that 
brand.  So  much  gained.  Then  she  recalled  a 
French  play  in  which  a  perfume  had  convicted  a 
person  of  theft.  She  held  the  envelope  to  her  nose ; 
nothing,  not  even  tobacco.  She  tried  the  letter 

» 

jitself.  Ah,  here  was  something  tangible:  helio 
trope,  vague,  but  perceptible.  Who  among  her 
friends  used  heliotrope  on  her  kerchief?  She 
could  not  remember;  in  fact,  any  or  all  of  them 
might  have  worn  it,  so  far  as  she  could  recall.  She 
384 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

would  go  over  her  invitations  and  visitors'  cards ; 
she  would  play  detective ;  she  would  ferret  out  as 
a  spy  who  took  this  amiable  interest  in  her  future. 
This  determination  brightened  her  considerably. 
And  woe  to  the  meddler  if  Patty  found  her !  If  it 
was  a  baseless  lie  (and  she  hoped  against  hope  in 
her  loyal  little  heart!)  she  would  make  a  pariah 
of  the  writer  of  this  particular  anonymous  letter. 
True  or  not,  what  was  it  to  her  ?  What  right  had 
she  to  interfere  ?  She  was  cowardly ;  of  that  Patty 
was  certain.  True  friends  are  the  last  in  the  world 
to  inflict  sorrow  upon  us.  Kith  and  kin  may  stab 
us,  but  never  the  loyal  friend.  Now  that  she 
thought  it  all  over,  she  was  glad  that  she  had  re 
peatedly  fought  the  impulse  to  lay  the  matter  be 
fore  her  sister.  She  would  trace  this  letter  home 
first;  she  would  find  out  upon  what  authority  it 
was  written;  there  would  be  time  enough  after 
that  to  confront  Kate,  or  Warrington,  or  John. 
Ah,  if  she  had  stepped  forward  in  the  dark,  to 
wreck  her  brother's  life  needlessly.  .  .  .  Helio 
trope!  She  would  never  forget  that  particular 
odor,  never.  She  had  a  good  idea  of  justice,  and 
she  recognized  the  fact  that  any  act  on  her  part, 
against  either  Kate  or  Warrington,  before  she 
found  the  writer  of  the  letter,  would  be  rank  in- 
385 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

justice.  Persons  can  not  defend  themselves  against 
anonymous  letters ;  they  can  only  ignore  them. 

She  touched  her  horse  again.  She  was  now  in 
feverish  haste  to  get  home.  She  took  the  turn 
of  the  road  which  presently  brought  her  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  shops.  It  was  practically  in 
ruins.  The  courtyard  walls  were  all  down,  the 
building  itself  was  totally  empty  of  ore  or  ma 
chinery.  Bennington  had  disposed  of  these  to 
Pennsylvanian  concerns.  Patty  rode  up  in  time  to 
see  half  a  dozen  urchins  throwing  stones  at  the 
few  window-panes  that  were  still  unbroken.  She 
dispersed  them  angrily,  and  they  gathered  at  the 
side  of  the  road,  open-mouthed  and  wide-eyed  at 
the  picture  of  this  avenging  angel. 

"How  dare  you  throw  stones  at  those  windows  ? 
How  dare  you?"  she  cried  passionately. 

After  a  while  one  of  the  lads  found  his  voice. 

"Why,  nobody's  in  it.  The  man  what  owns  it 
tored  the  insides  outen  it.  'Tain't  no  harm  what 
we're  doin'.  Hey,  fellers  ?" 

"Naw.  The  cops  don't  say  nothin'.  An'  my  old 
man  used  to  work  there." 

She  saw  that  they  were  no  more  than  ordinary 
boys  to  whom  the  panes  of  glass  in  a  deserted 
building  were  legitimate  prey. 
386 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"So  your  father  was  one  of  the  strikers  ?"  said 
Patty,  her  lips  thinning.  "Why  did  he  strike?" 

"I  don't  know ;  'cause  the  others  struck,  I  guess. 
They  was  an  English  lobster  workin'  without 
bein'  in  my  old  man's  union.  Mebbe  that  was  it. 
Anyhow,  we  don't  care;  the  old  man's  got  another 
job." 

With  this  the  boys  climbed  the  fence  and  moved 
across  the  field,  mutely  rebellious,  like  puppies 
baffled  in  their  pursuit  of  a  cat. 

Patty's  eyes,  moist  and  shining  of  a  sudden, 
roved  over  the  grim  ruins.  Sparrows  were  chat 
tering  on  the  window  ledges  and  swallows  were 
diving  into  the  black  mouths  of  the  towering 
chimneys.  The  memory  of  her  father  swelled  her 
heart  near  to  bursting.  She  could  see  his  iron- 
grey  head  bending  over  the  desk;  she  could  hear 
his  rough  but  kindly  voice.  Why,  whenever  he 
entered  the  house  his  splendid  physical  energy 
seemed  to  radiate  health  and  cheerfulness,  infect 
ing  all  those  about  him.  She  could  see  the  men, 
too,  moving  in  the  glow  of  ruddy  light ;  she  could 
see  again  the  brilliant  sparks  flying  from  under 
the  thundering  trip-hammers,  the  cyclopean  eyes 
that  glared  up  at  heaven  at  night,  the  great  rum 
bling  drays,  the  freight  moving  to  and  from  the 
387 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

spur.  Now  there  was  no  sound ;  nothing  but  si 
lence,  with  the  suggestion  of  a  tomb. 

The  end  of  the  strike  had  been  a  nine  days' 
wonder,  for  it  proved  that  there  had  actually  been 
no  strike  at  all,  since  the  owner  had  simply  closed 
down  the  shops,  torn  down  a  few  walls,  sold  the 
machinery  and  ore,  and  canceled  all  his  business 
obligations.  No  sensation,  however  vital,  lasts 
very  long  these  days;  and  after  these  nine  days 
it  turned  its  attention  to  other  things,  this 
mutable  public.  Employers,  however,  and  union 
leaders,  all  over  the  continent,  went  about  their 
affairs  thoughtfully.  If  one  man  could  do  this 
unheard-of  thing,  so  might  others,  now  that  an 
example  had  been  set  before  them.  The  dispersed 
men  harbored  no  ill  feeling  toward  Morrissy ;  he, 
as  they  supposed,  had  acted  in  good  faith  for  the 
welfare  of  the  union.  But  for  the  man  who  had 
had  the  courage  to  make  good  his  threats,  for  him 
they  had  nothing  but  bitterness  and  hate. 

Patty  would  always  remember  that  final  night 
of  the  strike  when  John  had  come  in  early  in  the 
morning,  his  clothes  torn,  his  hands  bloody,  his 
hair  matted  to  his  forehead,  and  hatless.  He  had 
been  last  to  leave  the  shops,  and  he  had,  unarmed, 
run  the  gantlet  of  the  maddened  strikers  who  had 
388 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

been  held  at  bay  for  six  long  hours.  Only  his 
great  strength  and  physical  endurance  had  pulled 
him  out  of  the  arms  of  violent  death.  There  had 
been  no  shot  fired  from  the  shops.  The  strikers 
saw  the  utter  futility  of  forcing  armed  men,  so 
they  had  hung  about  with  gibe  and  ribald  jeer, 
waiting  for  some  one  careless  enough  to  pass  them 
alone.  This  Bennington  did.  His  men  had  for 
gotten  him.  Bennington's  injuries  had  been  rather 
trivial;  it  had  been  his  personal  appearance  that 
had  terrified  the  women.  He  had  fallen  asleep 
half  an  hour  after  reaching  home,  and  he  had  slept 
till  nine  that  evening.  Upon  awakening  he  had 
begun  at  once  to  plan  a  trip  to  Europe,  to  wander 
from  capital  to  capital  for  a  year  or  so.  No  one 
had  interrupted  him ;  not  even  the  mother,  grown 
old  in  the  past  month,  had  demurred  at  his  plans. 
He  would  have  none  near  him  but  Kate,  and  she 
had  hovered  about  him,  ministering  to  his  wants 
as  a  mother  over  a  sick  child.  .  .  .  Kate !  It  all 
came  back  with  a  rush.  Kate !  Oh,  what  was  she, 
Patty,  to  believe  ?  That  night  she  had  loved  Kate 
almost  to  idolatry.  She  shuddered,  turned  away 
from  the  ruins,  and  set  off  at  a  gallop  till  she  came 
upon  brick  pavement.  She  rarely  trotted  upon 
pavement,  but  this  morning  she  had  no  thought 
389 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

for  the  horse;  she  burned  to  be  at  work.  She 
trotted  rapidly  into  town,  across  the  principal 
thoroughfares,  this  way  being  the  short  cut.  By 
this  time  men  were  on  the  way  to  work.  Many  of 
them  turned  their  heads  to  stare  at  her.  There 
was  only  one  woman  in  town  who  sat  a  horse  like 
this  one,  and  it  could  be  no  less  a  person  than 
Patty  Bennington.  All  the  men  recognized  her  in 
stantly.  She  had  their  good  wishes,  for  all  that 
her  brother  had  taken  away  the  bread  and  butter 
of  some  of  them.  Many  touched  their  hats  from 
mere  force  of  habit. 

There  was  one  man,  however,  who  glared  evilly 
at  her  from  the  curb.  She  recognized  him  in  spite 
of  his  discolored  face,  the  result  of  a  long,  unin 
terrupted  debauch.  It  was  Bolles.  As  he  caught 
her  eye  he  smiled  evilly  and  leered  at  her. 

"Wait,  my  beauty ;  wait.  I'll  kill  that  brother 
of  yours  one  of  these  fine  days,  damn  him!" 
Bolles  gave  one  more  look  at  the  swiftly-moving 
figure  on  the  horse,  and  shuffled  away  toward  Mc- 
Quade's  office,  to  await  the  arrival  of  that  gentle 
man.  Bolles  needed  money,  and  he  knew  where 
to  get  it. 

As  she  reached  the  foot  of  Williams  Street 
Patty  glanced  up  the  hill.  A  horseman  had  just 
390 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

entered  Warrington's.  She  recognized  both  man 
and  horse.  It  was  Warrington.  She  knew  at  once 
that  he  had  ridden  out  her  favorite  route,  perhaps 
in  the  hope  of  seeing  her.  Her  heart  tightened 
strangely  as  she  walked  her  horse  up  the  hill,  and 
she  would  have  passed  home  but  for  the  intelli 
gence  of  her  animal,  which  turned  in  toward  the 
house  quite  naturally.  Her  mother  was  on  the  side 
veranda. 

"Patty,  you  have  worried  us  all.  The  stable 
man,  when  he  found  your  horse  gone,  came  in 
with  the  cry  of  thieves.  I  was  frightened,  too,  till 
I  went  to  your  room  and  found  you  gone.  You 
mustn't  go  without  notifying  the  stableman  or  the 
groom." 

"It  was  an  impulse  of  the  moment,  mother.  I 
couldn't  sleep,  and  I  saw  no  need  of  waking  up  the 
boys  in  the  stables." 

Patty  ran  up  stairs  for  a  bath  and  a  change  of 
clothes  for  breakfast.  She  ate  little,  however ;  the 
ride  had  not  put  the  usual  edge  on  her  appetite. 

"Mr.  Warrington  made  a  fine  speech  last  night," 
said  the  mother,  handing  the  morning  paper  to 
Patty. 

Patty  accepted  it  mechanically.  She  had  deter 
mined  not  to  read  the  paper.  But  she  knew  now, 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

if  she  unfolded  it,  she  would  turn  immediately  to 
the  local  pages  and  search  for  Warrington's 
speech.  She  read  it,  and  she  hated  herself  for  ad 
miring  it.  The  self-lie  was  not  among  Patty's  fail 
ings.  There  was  no  denying  that  Warrington's 
speech  was  a  good  oratorical  effort ;  every  line  of 
it  rang  sound  and  true ;  but  that  might  be  a  trick  of 
the  trade.  He  could  make  thieves  and  villains  on 
the  stage  speak  glibly  and  plausibly;  certainly  he 
could  do  as  much  for  himself.  One  thing  she  could 
not  deny  him,  and  that  was  frankness.  He  had 
confessed  to  her  last  summer  that  he  was  not,  or 
had  not  been,  a  good  man  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word.  She  laid  down  the  paper  and  finished  her 
coffee.  She  was  glad  that  she  did  not  have  to  face 
Kate  at  each  meal.  She  felt  that  she  couldn't  have 
trusted  herself ;  there  were  times  when  she  spoke 
the  first  thought,  and  always  regretted  it.  Poor 
John,  poor  John ! 

From  the  table  she  went  directly  to  the  Indian 
basket  that  held  all  the  cards  and  invitations.  The 
mother,  concerned  with  her  household  duties,  left 
her  to  herself.  Patty  would  have  found  some  diffi 
culty  at  that  moment  in  answering  any  curious 
questions.  One  by  one  she  drew  out  the  envelopes 
and  cards.  There  was  a  permanent  scent  of  sweet 
392 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

grass.  She  discovered  nothing;  she  realized  that 
her  discovering  anything  depended  solely  upon 
hazard.  Excitement  ebbed,  leaving  nothing  but 
hopelessness.  She  threw  the  cards  and  invitations 
into  the  basket.  She  might  have  known  that  visit 
ing-cards  and  printed  invitations  are  generally 
odorless.  She  sought  the  garden.  The  Angora 
was  prowling  around,  watching  the  bees  and  but 
terflies  hovering  over  wind-fallen  fruit.  Patty 
called  to  her,  but  the  cat  ignored  the  call.  From 
the  garden  Patty  went  to  the  stables,  from  the 
stables  she  returned  to  the  house.  She  was  at 
peace  nowhere.  Later  her  mother  found  her 
dreaming  in  the  window-seat. 

"Patty,  Mrs.  Haldene  left  her  shopping-bag 
here  yesterday  afternoon.  I  had  forgotten  it. 
Would  you  mind  taking  it  over  to  her,  or  shall  I 
have  the  maid  do  it  ?'' 

"I  have  nothing  to  do,  mother.  I  can  take  it 
over  just  as  well  as  not,"  said  Patty  listlessly. 

She  slipped  her  arm  through  the  handles  of  the 
bag  and  proceeded  into  the  hall  for  a  hat.  As  she 
lifted  the  hat  to  her  head  the  bag  slipped  along 
her  arm  close  to  her  nose.  Instantly  her  figure  be 
came  tense  and  rigid,  her  face  grim  and  colorless. 

Heliotrope ! 

393 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

There  could  be  no  doubt  at  all.  The  perfume 
on  the  letter  and  that  on  the  shopping-bag  were 
identical.  Indeed,  she  would  take  the  bag  over  to 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene ;  she  would  be  very  glad 
to  do  her  that  trifling  service.  Oh!  Patty's  rage 
choked  her.  During  the  past  three  weeks  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene  had  called  at  least  a  dozen 
times,  doubtless  to  observe  the  effect  of  her  inter 
est  in  Patty's  welfare.  She  might  have  known! 
Well,  this  very  morning  she  would  ascertain  from 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene's  lips  where  she  had  se 
cured  her  information.  She  would  do  more  than 
that ;  she  would  make  her  prove  every  word  of  it. 

So  Patty  marched  toward  the  Haldene  place; 
marched,  because  that  verb  suggests  something 
warlike,  something  belligerent.  And  there  was 
war  a-plenty  in  Patty's  heart.  Each  step  she  took 
sang  out  a  sharp  "Meddler-gossip!  meddler-gos 
sip!"  A  delivery  horse  went  past,  drumming  an 
irritating  "Busybody!  busybody!  busybody!" 
What  had  she  or  hers  ever  done  to  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene  that  she  should  stoop  to  so  base  a  means 
394 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

of  attack  ?  An  anonymous  letter !  War  raged  in 
Patty's  heart;  but  there  was  something  warmer 
and  clearer  coursing  through  her  veins — hope ! 

She  went  on.  Not  a  particle  of  her  courage  de 
serted  her  as  she  mounted  the  steps  and  pushed 
the  bell.  When  Patty  was  genuinely  roused  in 
anger  she  was  afraid  of  little  or  nothing,  animate 
or  inanimate.  A  maid  answered  the  bell.  As  she 
recognized  the  caller  she  swung  back  the  door  and 
nodded. 

"Is  Mrs.  Haldene  at  home?"  Patty  inquired. 

"Yes,  Miss  Patty." 

The  maid  led  Patty  into  the  library,  where 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  was  busily  engaged  in 
making  up  an  invitation  list. 

"Why,  Patty,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  cried, 
dropping  her  pen  and  rising.  But  her  curiosity 
rose  at  the  same  time.  Patty  here  ? 

"You  left  your  shopping-bag  when  you  called 
yesterday,"  said  Patty,  ominously  calm.  "I  have 
brought  it  to  you." 

"It  was  very  careless  of  me  to  forget  it." 

"Yes,  it  was,"  Patty  assented,  her  heart  begin 
ning  to  throb  violently. 

"Thank  you.  And  I  have  been  looking  for  it 
high  and  low." 

395 


HALF  A   ROGUE 

Patty  passed  the  bag  to  her  enemy.  How  to  be 
gin,  how  to  begin ! 

"Mrs.  Haldene!"  Patty's  voice  was  high- 
pitched  and  quavering. 

"Why,  Patty!" 

"Why  did  you  write  this  base  letter  to  me!" — • 
exhibiting  the  letter  resolutely.  "Do  not  deny  that 
you  wrote  it.  It  smells  of  heliotrope — your  fa 
vorite  perfume." 

"Patty  Bennington,  are  you  mad  ?"  cried  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene.  "What  letter?  What  do  you 
mean?"  She  knew  very  well,  but  she  had  not 
practised  the  control  of  her  nerves  all  these  years 
for  nothing.  "A  letter?  I  demand  to  see  it." 

But  Patty  reconsidered  and  withdrew  her  hand, 
concluding  that  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  could  de 
stroy  the  letter  as  easily  as  she  had  written  it; 
more  easily,  had  Patty  but  known  it. 

"I  prefer  to  read  it  to  you."  And  Patty  read, 
her  tones  sharp  and  penetrating,  finely  tempered 
by  anger. 

"I  write  such  a  thing  as  that?  You  accuse  me 
of  writing  an  anonymous  letter  of  that  caliber? 
You  are  mad,  distinctly  mad,  and  if  I  did  what 
was  right  I  should  ask  you  to  leave  this  house  in 
stantly."  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  rose  to  her  full 
396 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

height,  after  the  manner  of  indignant  persons  on 
the  stage. 

Patty  was  not  overcome  in  the  least.  An  idea, 
bold,  unconventional,  and  not  over-scrupulous, 
shot  into  her  head.  With  her  eyes  holding  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene's,  she  stepped  toward  the  desk ; 
then,  in  a  flash,  she  seized  one  of  the  sheets  of 
note-paper  that  lay  scattered  about.  Mrs.  Frank- 
lyn  Halderie  made  a  desperate  effort  to  intercept 
Patty;  but  Patty  was  young,  slender  and  agile. 
She  ran  quickly  to  the  nearest  window  and  com 
pared  the  written  sheet  with  the  blank.  The  paper 
and  grain  were  the  same,  only  one  showed  that  the 
top  had  been  cut  off.  There  was  no  shadow  of 
doubt. 

"You  are  a  horrible  woman,"  said  Patty. 

"Leave  this  house  instantly!"  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene  was  now  thoroughly  alarmed. 

"Not  till  you  have  proved  the  truth  of  this  let 
ter,"  Patty  declared. 

"I  refuse  to  submit  to  such  gross  insults  in  my 
own  house!"  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene's  voice  rose 
a  key.  She  swept  majestically  toward  the  door. 

Patty  stepped  bravely  in  front  of  her. 

"Have  you  no  breeding?"  the  storm  in  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene's  voice  gathering. 
397 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"Who  told  you  that  my  brother's  wife  was  for 
merly — ' 

"Stand  aside!" 

"I  shall  not  leave  this  house  or  your  presence 
till  you  have  answered,"  replied  the  little  paladin. 
"You  wrote  this  letter  to  me,  trusting  it  would 
make  me  miserable.  It  has.  But  I  have  not  done 
what  you  expected, — shown  it.  Who  told  you  this 
base  lie?" 

"I  refuse  to  answer  your  impudent  questions. 
Will  you  stand  aside?" 

"There  is  a  way  to  force  you.  I  will  know, 
Mrs.  Haldene,  I  will  know.  If  you  refuse,  I  shall 
turn  these  two  sheets  over  to  my  brother's  law 
yers." 

"A  lawyer?"  with  an  hysterical  laugh.  "You 
would  scarcely  take  a  thing  like  that  to  a  lawyer, 
of  all  persons." 

"I  declare  to  you  that  that  is  exactly  what  I 
shall  do.  You  wrote  this  letter ;  I  can  prove  that 
you  wrote  it.  Afraid  of  publicity?  You  do  not 
know  me.  What  I  demand  to  know  is,  who  gave 
you  this  information?  That  I  will  know." 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  saw  that  Patty  would 
do  what  she  promised;  so  she  took  her  stand 
boldly. 

398 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Well,  then,  since  you  will  have  it.  Yes,  I 
wrote  that  letter,  for  I  could  no  longer  stand  the 
humiliation  of  meeting  your  sister-in-law  in 
decent  houses,  and  that  double  hypocrite  who 
pretends  to  be  your  brother's  friend  and  your  ad 
mirer.  Proof?  I  was  at  my  hair-dresser's  one 
morning,  when  a  woman  who  is  an  intimate  of 
McQuade,  the  politician,  came  in.  She  dropped  a 
letter.  McQuade  had  written  it.  It  told  definitely 
the  information  you  have  in  your  hand." 

"You  have  that  letter  ?"  Patty  was  conscious  of 
a  strange  numbness  stealing  over  her. 

"No,  I  haven't.  I  read  it,  and  sent  it  to  its 
owner.  I  consider  myself  very  fortunate.  I  always 
had  my  suspicions,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  find  that 
they  were  not  without  foundation.  You  will  now 
relieve  me  of  your  unwelcome  presence  in  this 
house."  This  time  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  leveled 
her  arm  toward  the  door ;  the  right  was  with  her. 

"In  a  moment,"  said  a  third  voice,  masculine. 

Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene's  arm  dropped.  Patty 
turned  with  a  low  cry.  She  had  forgotten  that 
there  might  be  some  one  else  in  the  house. 

Haldene  entered  through  the  door  to  the  dining- 
room.  His  face  was  hard  and  his  eyes  cold. 

"I  must  ask  your  pardon,  both  of  you,  but  I 
399 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

could  not  help  overhearing  your  voices.  They  ran 
somewhat  high."  He  bowed  to  Patty  deferen 
tially  ;  he  merely  glanced  at  his  wife. 

"Franklyn!"  This  phase  of  the  situation  was 
altogether  too  unexpected  and  embarrassing  for 
Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldene  to  accept  it  readily. 

"I  have  heard  words  about  an  anonymous  let 
ter;  I  have  heard  names, — McQuade,  your 
brother,  his  wife,  Warrington,  and  my  wife.  I 
should  like  to  know — " 

"Franklyn !"  his  wife  appealed.  To  be  humili 
ated  before  this  impudent  chit  of  a  girl ! 

"Patience,  my  dear."  Haldene  held  up  his 
hand.  "Well,  Patty?" 

"Mrs.  Haldene  has  taken  the  trouble  to  meddle 
with  my  affairs  by  writing  me  an  anonymous  let 
ter  concerning  the  conduct  of  my  brother's  wife 
and  his  friend.  I  have  traced  the  letter  to  Mrs. 
Haldene,  and  she  has  confessed  that  she  wrote  it, 
also  stating  her  reasons  and  the  source  of  her  in 
formation."  Patty  spoke  bravely,  for  she  hadn't 
the  least  idea  whose  side  Mr.  Haldene  would  take. 
She  was  not  aware  that,  for  all  his  idle  habits  and 
failings,  he  had  that  quality  of  justice  which,  upon 
occasions,  makes  a  terrible  judge  of  a  just  man. 

"Will  you  let  me  see  that  letter?"  he  asked. 
400 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

Patty  gave  it  to  him  without  conditions.  He 
read  it  slowly,  but  neither  woman  could  discover 
the  slightest  emotion  on  the  man's  face.  He 
studied  it  carefully.  He  even  compared  the  false 
hand  with  the  true.  Then  he  addressed  his  wife. 

"Did  you  write  this  ?" 

"Yes,  I  did.  And  if  you  have  been  listening,  as 
you  had  the  courage  to  say  you  had,  you  already 
know  my  reasons  for  writing  it."  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene  was  recovering. 

"You  must  apologize,"  he  said. 

"Apologize?  I  think  not.  On  my  part  there  is 
nothing  more  to  be  said." 

"I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  apologize  for  you. 
Patty,  I  am  very  sorry  that  this  has  happened,  and 
I  can  promise  you  that  it  shall  end  here.  Will  you 
accept  my  apology  ?" 

After  some  hesitance,  Patty  nodded.  She  could 
not  very  well  refuse.  She  had  always  liked  Mr. 
Haldene.  As  hitherto  remarked,  Patty's  was  an 
impulsive  heart.  Suddenly  she  stretched  out  her 
hands  toward  the  wife. 

"What  have  I  or  mine  ever  done  to  you  that  you 
should  seek  to  injure  us  so  cruelly?    Have  we 
wronged  you  in  thought  or  deed  ?  What  is  it  that 
has  made  you  my  enemy  ?" 
401 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"I  am  not  your  enemy,  Patty,"  said  the  elder 
woman,  melting  ever  so  slightly.  "I  have  told  you 
that  I  did  not  wish  to  see  your  life  made  wretched 
by  marrying  a  man  of  Warrington's  loose  habits, 
and  that  I  could  not  tolerate  the  woman  who  is 
your  brother's  wife." 

Patty  held  out  her  hand  for  the  letter.  She  had 
no  desire  to  remain  any  longer.  She  wanted  noth 
ing  but  the  privilege  of  being  alone,  that  she  might 
weep  the  bitter,  galling  tears  that  were  brimming 
her  eyes.  .  .  .  She  had  no  recollection  of  gain 
ing  the  street.  It  was  true,  it  was  true !  She  did 
not  even  remember  how  she  reached  her  room; 
but  as  her  blurred  eyes  saw  the  bed,  she  fell  upon 
it  in  a  stupor  that  for  a  long  while  did  not  give  any 
outlet  to  her  tears. 

In  the  meantime  Haldene  faced  his  wife. 

"I  am  going  down  town  presently/'  he  said. 
"I  shall  send  you  up  by  messenger  several  cabin- 
plans." 

"Cabin-plans?"  amazed  at  this  odd  turn  in 
affairs. 

"Yes.  You  will  spend  the  winter  either  in 
Egypt  or  Italy,  as  it  pleases  you." 

"Europe?    But  my  social  obligations  demand 
my  presence  here !"  she  expostulated. 
402 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"You  will  cancel  them.  You  will  go  to  Europe. 
Anonymous  letters!"  He  struck  the  desk  vio 
lently.  It  was  the  first  touch  of  this  kind  he  had 
ever  exhibited  in  her  presence,  and  it  terrified  her. 
"When  I  married  you,  people  said  I  married  your 
money.  As  God  is  above  us,  I  loved  you.  Yes,  I 
loved  you.  But  how  long  was  it  permitted  that 
this  love  should  live  ?  Six  slender  months !  You, 
you  of  all  women,  you  write  anonymous  letters  ?" 
He  laughed,  but  it  was  laughter  that  had  nothing- 
human  in  it.  "Madam,  when  I  die  my  deposit 
box  at  the  bank  will  be  turned  over  to  you.  In  it 
you  will  find  six  anonymous  letters.  They  have 
lain  there  sixteen  years.  I  took  the  advice  of  one 
and  followed  you.  So  I  let  them  believe  that  I  had 
married  you  for  your  money.  I  meant  to  have  my 
revenge  after  I  was  dead.  Madam,  you  will  go  to 
Europe.  I  shall  not  be  home  to  lunch,  but  you 
may  expect  me  at  dinner.  I  am  curious  to  learn 
whether  it  will  be  in  Egypt  and  the  Holy  Land,  or 
Italy,  the  land  of  the  fig-tree  and  the  vine.  Good 
morning." 

When  he  was  gone,   Mrs.   Franklyn-Haldene 

realized,  for  the  first  time  in  sixteen  years,  that 

she  had  married  a  man.   Suddenly  her  knees  gave 

from  under  her,  and  she  sank  into  her  chair,  star- 

403 


HALF    A    ROGUE 


ing  at  the  floor  with  unseeing  eyes.    For  sixteen 
years ! 


That  afternoon  Warrington  had  a  visit.  His 
visitors  were  Jordan,  the  reporter,  and  Osborne. 
They  appeared  to  be  in  high  spirits. 

"We've  got  him,  Dick!"  exclaimed  Jordan, 
swinging  his  hat. 

"Got  whom?" 

"Morrissy — Morrissy  and  McQuade,"  said  Os 
borne,  in  his  whisky-roughened  voice.  "We've 
got  'em  all  right,  Dick.  Look  at  this,"  tossing  a 
wrinkled  sheet  of  carbon-paper  on  Warrington's 
desk. 

Warrington  spread  it  out.  It  took  him  but  a 
minute  to  find  out  the  richness  of  his  possession. 

"Where  did  you  come  across  this?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

"My  niece  found  it  in  her  waste-basket.  I've 
sent  her  into  the  country  to  visit  relatives,"  said 
Osborne.  "But  if  you  use  it,  Dick,  you'll  have  to 
find  the  girl  another  job  in  some  other  town." 

"You  leave  that  to  me.  This  is  worth  a  thou 
sand  to  me  and  a  thousand  more  to  John  Benning- 
ton.  Now,  both  of  you  go  down  to  any  restaurant 
in  town  and  order  what  you  like,  and  as  long  as 
404 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

you  like,  and  you  have  them  call  me  up  if  there's 
any  question." 

The  reporter  and  the  semi-outcast  smiled  at 
each  other.  They  saw  their  appetites  appeased  to 
satiety. 

"Does  a  bottle  go  with  the  order,  Dick?"  asked 
Jordan. 

"Half  a  dozen !"  laughed  Warrington. 

"I've  put  you  in  the  City  Hall,  Dick,"  said  Os- 
borne.  "And  don't  forget  me  when  you're  there." 

"Will  there  be  a  story  for  me  ?"  Jordan  asked. 

"You'll  have  a  page,  Ben." 

"That's  enough.  Well,  come  on,  Bill;  we'll 
show  the  new  mayor  that  we  can  order  like  gen 
tlemen." 

"I  remember — "  But  Osborne  never  completed 
his  reminiscence.  Jordan  was  already  propelling 
him  toward  the  door. 

Once  the  door  had  closed  upon  them,  Warring- 
ton  capered  around  the  room  like  a  school-boy. 
The  publication  of  this  confederacy  between  Mor- 
rissy  and  McQuade  would  swing  the  doubting 
element  over  to  his  side  and  split  the  ranks  of  the 
labor  party. 

Patty,  Patty  Bennington !  He  must  see  her.  It 
was  impossible  to  wait  another  day.  When  was  it 
405 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

he  had  seen  her  last?  Patty,  dark-eyed,  elfish, 
winsome,  merry !  Oh,  yes,  he  must  see  her  at  once, 
this  very  afternoon.  He  could  no  longer  repress 
the  tide  of  his  love,  which  surged  at  the  flood 
gates  of  his  heart  with  mighty  pressure.  Patty! 
Patty ! 

"Patty  is  not  feeling  well,"  said  Mrs.  Benning- 
ton,  as  she  welcomed  Warrington  at  the  door,  an 
hour  later.  "I  will  call  her.  I  am  sure  she  will  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

Warrington  went  into  the  music-room,  placed 
his  hat  on  the  piano,  and  idled  about  impatiently. 
That  morning  he  had  not  possessed  the  courage; 
now  he  was  willing  to  face  lions  and  tigers,  any 
thing  rather  than  permit  another  day  to  pass  with 
out  telling  Patty  that  he  loved  her.  When  she 
finally  appeared  she  was  pale,  her  eyes  were  red, 
but  her  head  was  erect  and  her  lips  firm. 

"Patty,  are  you  ill?"  hastening  toward  her. 

"I  have  a  very  bad  headache,"  coldly.  "You 
wished  to  see  me?" 

Where  were  all  the  tender  words  he  had 
planned  to  speak  ?  Patty  had  been  weeping ! 

"You  have  been  crying.  What  has  happened  ?" 
anxiously. 

"It  can  not  interest  you,"  wearily.  Men !  She 
406 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

would  have  a  horror  of  them  for  the  rest  of  her 
days. 

"Not  interest  me?  Don't  you  know,  haven't 
you  seen  by  this  time,  that  you  interest  me  more 
than  any  other  living  being  or  any  angel  in 
Heaven  ?" 

Patty  caught  at  the  portiere  to  steady  herself. 
She  had  not  expected  declarations  of  this  kind. 

"Don't  you  know,"  he  hurried  on,  his  voice 
gaining  in  passion  and  tenderness,  "don't  you 
know  that  a  pain  to  you  means  triple  pain  to  me  ? 
Don't  you  know  that  I  love  you?  Patty,  what  is 
the  trouble  ?  You  are  not  a  woman  to  weep  over 
headaches." 

"Do  you  wish  to  know,  then?"  bitterly.  She 
hated  him !  How  could  he  stand  there  telling  her 
that  he  loved  her?  "Read  this,"  presenting  the 
letter.  "I  despise  you !" 

"Despise  me?  What  in  God's  name  is  the  mat 
ter?" 

"Read,  read !"  vehemently. 

Once  the  letter  was  in  his  hand,  her  arms 
dropped  to  her  sides,  tense.  It  was  best  so,  to  have 
it  over  with  at  once.  To  crush  the  thought  of  him 
out  of  her  heart  for  ever,  such  a  remedy  was  neces 
sary.  She  watched  him.  His  hand  fell  slowly.  It 
407 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

would  have  been  difficult  to  say  which  of  the  two 
was  the  whiter. 

"You  speak  of  love  to  me  ?" 

He  stood  there,  stunned.  His  silence  spoke  elo 
quently  to  her.  He  was  guilty.  She  leaped  to  this 
conclusion  at  once,  not  realizing  that  no  man  can 
immediately  defend  himself  when  accused  so 
abruptly. 

"You  speak  of  love!"  Her  wrath  seemed  to 
scorch  her  lips.  "My  poor  brother !" 

Warrington  straightened.  "Do  you  believe 
this?"  He  threw  the  letter  aside,  as  if  the  touch 
contaminated  him,  caring  not  where  it  fell. 

"Is  it  true?" 

"An  anonymous  letter  ?"  he  replied,  contemptu 
ously. 

"I  know  who  wrote  it." 

"You  know  who  wrote  it  ?  Who  ?"  There  was 
terrible  anger  in  his  voice  now. 

"I  decline  to  answer." 

"So  you  give  me  not  even  the  benefit  of  a 
doubt !  You  believe  it !" 

Patty  was  less  observant  than  usual.  "Will  you 
please  go  now  ?  I  do  not  think  there  is  anything 
more  to  be  said." 

"No.  I  will  go."  He  spoke  quietly,  but  like  a 
408 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

man  who  has  received  his  death-stroke.  "One 
question  more.  Did  McQuade  write  that  letter?" 

"No." 

He  picked  up  his  hat.  "So  much  for  my 
dreams!  Deny  it?  Deny  calumny  of  the  anony 
mous  order?  No!  Defend  myself  against  such  a 
lie?  No!" 

He  walked  from  the  room,  his  head  erect.  He 
did  not  turn  to  look  at  her  again.  The  hall  door 
closed.  He  was  gone. 


409 


CHAPTER    XIX 

Tragedy  was  abroad  that  day,  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  Williams  Street.  Tragedy  has  the  same 
prerogative  as  love  and  death — the  right  to  enter 
the  palace  or  the  hovel,  into  the  heart  of  youth 
or  age.  It  was  not  a  killing  to-day,  only  a  break 
ing  of  hearts,  that  is  to  say,  the  first  step.  Tragedy 
never  starts  out  on  her  rounds  roughly ;  she  seeks 
her  cause  first;  she  seeks  her  anonymous  letter, 
her  idle  hands,  her  lying  tongue;  then  she  is 
ready.  Tragedy  does  nothing  hastily ;  she  gradu 
ates  her  victim. 

Warrington  stumbled  rather  than  walked  home. 
When  he  reached  the  opposite  curb  he  slipped  and 
fell,  bruising  his  hands.  .  .  .  Deny  it?  Deny 
it  when  convicted  without  trial  ?  There  are  never 
any  proofs  to  refute  a  letter  written  by  an  un 
known  enemy.  There  is  never  any  guard  against 
the  stab  in  the  back.  .  .  .  He  and  Kate!  It 
was  monstrous.  And  John?  Did  John  know? 
Did  John  see  that  letter?  No,  Patty  surely  had 
not  shown  it  to  John.  He  knew  John  (or  he  be 
lieved  he  did)  ;  not  all  the  proofs  or  explanations 
410 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

Heaven  or  earth  could  give  would  convince  John, 
if  that  letter  fell  into  his  hands.  .  .  .  And  he 
was  to  speak  at  a  mass  meeting  that  night !  God ! 
He  stumbled  up  the  steps  to  the  door.  He  was  like 
a  drunken  man.  .  .  .  Patty  believed  it;  Patty, 
just  and  merciful,  believed  it.  If  she  believed, 
wrhat  would  John,  the  jealous  husband,  believe? 
There  were  so  many  trifling  things  that  now  in 
John's  eyes  would  assume  immense  proportions. 
....  In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  world 
had  stopped,  turned  about,  and  gone  another  way. 
He  opened  the  door.  As  he  did  so  a  woman 
rushed  into  the  hall. 

"Richard,  Richard,  I  thought  you  would  never 
come!" 

"You,  and  in  this  house  alone?"  His  shoulders 
drooped. 

Mrs.  Jack  did  not  observe  how  white  he  was, 
how  dull  his  eye,  how  abject  his  whole  attitude. 
She  caught  him  by  the  sleeve  and  dragged  him 
into  the  living-room. 

"Richard,  I  am  dying!"  she  cried.  She  loos 
ened  the  collaret  at  her  throat.  "What  shall  I 
do,  what  shall  I  do?" 

He  realized  then  that  he  was  not  alone  in 
misery. 

411 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"What,  is  it,  girl?"  stirring  himself. 

"Listen,  Dick !"  She  dropped  into  the  old  name 
unconsciously.  She  had  but  one  clear  thought; 
this  man  could  save  her.  "Some  time  ago — the 
night  you  and  John  went  down  town  together — 
I  received  a  telephone  call  from  that  vile  wretch, 
McQuade." 

"McQuade?"  Warrington's  interest  was  thor 
oughly  aroused  by  that  name;  nothing  else  could 
have  aroused  it. 

"He  said  that  if  I  did  not  persuade  you  to  with 
draw  your  name  before  the  convention  met  he 
would  not  oppose  the  publication  of  a  certain 
story  concerning  my  past  and  yours.  Horrible! 
What  could  I  do?  I  remained  silent;  it  was 
Patty's  advice.  We  were  afraid  that  John  would 
kill  McQuade  if  we  told  him."  She  let  go  of  his 
arm  and  paced  the  room,  beating  her  hands  to 
gether.  "Think  of  the  terror  I  have  lived  in  all 
these  weeks !  Half  dead  every  evening  when  John 
came  home ;  not  daring  to  read  the  papers ;  afraid 
of  calling  on  my  few  friends !  I  have  never,  in  all 
my  life,  done  an  evil  action,  either  in  thought  or 
deed.  What  terrible  gift  is  this  that  God  gives  to 
some  people  to  make  truth  half  a  truth  and  half  a 
truth  a  lie?  Read  this!" 

412 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

It  was  a  half-sheet  of  ordinary  office  paper, 
written  on  a  typewriter.  Its  purport  was  similar 
to  the  one  he  had  read  but  a  few  minutes  since. 
Only  it  was  bolder;  there  were  no  protestations 
about  anybody's  welfare.  It  was  addressed  to 
John  Bennington. 

"Great  God!  another  anonymous  letter!  Do 
you  know  who  sent  this?" 

"I  can  think  of  no  one  but  McQuade;  no  one!" 
frantically.  "Save  me,  Richard!  I  love  him 
better  than  God,  and  this  is  my  punishment.  If 
John  sees  this,  I  shall  die;  if  he  doesn't  kill  me  I 
shall  kill  myself !  I  opened  it  by  mistake.  I  am  so 
miserable.  What  has  happened?  What  have  I 
done  that  this  curse  should  fall  on  me?  When  I 
came  to  this  city  I  expected  to  find  rest  in  the 
house  of  the  man  I  loved.  .  .  .  Patty  does  not 
come  over.  .  .  .  What  have  I  not  suffered  in 
silence  and  with  smiles?  I  have  seen  them  whis 
pering;  I  have  seen  covert  smiles,  and  nods,  and 
shrugs.  I  knew.  I  was  an  actress.  It  seems  that 
nothing  too  bad  or  vile  can  be  thought  of  her  who 
honestly  throws  her  soul  into  the  greatest  gift 
given  to  woman.  An  actress !  They  speak  of  her 
in  the  same  tone  they  would  use  regarding  a  crea 
ture  of  the  streets.  Well,  because  I  loved  my  hus- 
413 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

band  I  have  said  nothing;  I  have  let  the  poison 
eat  into  my  heart  in  silence.  But  this  goes  too  far. 
I  shall  go  mad  if  this  thing  can  not  be  settled  here 
and  now.  It  is  both  my  love  and  my  honor.  And 
you  must  do  it,  Richard ;  you  must  do  it." 

"You  say  McQuade  called  you  up  by  tele 
phone?" 

"Yes." 

He  struck  his  forehead.  The  carbon  sheet !  He 
ran  to  his  desk,  pulled  out  all  the  drawers,  tum 
bling  the  papers  about  till  he  found  what  he 
sought.  From  the  letter  to  the  faint  imprint  on 
the  carbon  sheet  and  back  to  the  letter  his  eyes 
moved,  searching,  scrutinizing. 

"Look !"  with  a  cry  of  triumph. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Do  you  see  that  mutilated  letter  T?"  He  in 
dicated  with  his  finger  on  the  dim  carbon  sheet. 

"Yes,  yes!" 

"Compare  it  with  the  letter  T  in  this  note." 

She  did  so,  her  hands  shaking  pitifully.  "I 
can't  see,  Richard." 

"That  carbon  sheet  came  from  McQuade's 
office ;  so  did  that  letter  to  John.  And  now,  by  the 
Lord!  now  to  pull  out  Mr.  McQuade's  fangs, 
414 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

and  slowly,  too."  He  pocketed  the  two  sheets. 
"Come !"  His  hat  was  still  on  his  head. 

"Where,  Richard?" 

"To  John." 

"No,  no!  John?" 

"To  him.  We  can  not  settle  this  matter  under 
ground.  We  must  fight  in  the  open,  in  the  light. 
John  must  know.  You  must  be  brave,  girl.  This 
is  no  time  for  timidity  and  tears.  You  know  and 
I  know  that  right  and  truth  are  on  our  side.  We'll 
risk  it  in  a  single  throw."  Upon  determining  to 
act  thus,  he  was  acting  as  only  a  man  acts  who  has 
a  wide  and  definite  knowledge  of  men  and  affairs. 
"Come ;  the  sooner  it  is  over  the  better.  John  may 
flare  up  a  little,  but  he  is  a  just  man.  Let  us  go  to 
John." 

She  put  forth  many  arguments,  but  to  each  he 
shook  his  head.  The  thought  of  losing  a  particle 
of  John's  love  terrified  her,  who  was  ordinarily  a 
courageous  woman. 

"We  are  losing  time,"  said  Warrington.  "When 
John  reads  these  two  documents  he  will  under 
stand.  He  knows  McQuade  is  base  enough  to  seek 
revenge  this  way.  He  will  recognize  it  for  its 
worth.  But  if  John  finds  out  that  we  have  left  him 
415 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

out  of  our  confidence,  he  will  have  some  good 
reason  to  doubt.  Come." 

So  she  followed  him,  her  heart  like  lead,  no 
thought  coherent,  her  will  without  energy.  This 
was  to  be  the  end  of  all  her  dreams.  They  crossed 
the  street  without  speaking.  He  helped  her  down 
this  curb  and  up  that.  All  this  excitement  lessened 
his  own  pain  temporarily.  But  who  had  written 
to  Patty,  if  not  McQuade?  He  could  block  any 
future  move  of  McQuade's  but  this  other  anony 
mous  writer,  whom  Patty  declared  she  knew  ?  He 
went  on  doggedly.  One  battle  at  a  time.  Together 
they  entered  the  house,  together  they  passed  from 
room  to  room  in  search  of  John.  They  came  upon 
him  reading  in  the  library.  He  rose  to  greet  them. 
There  was  no  beating  about  the  bush  for  War- 
rington.  He  went  straight  into  the  heart  of  things. 

"John,  read  this." 

John  glanced  at  the  sheet,  and  his  face  dark 
ened.  The  look  he  shot  his  wife  was  indescribable. 
She  watched  him,  twisting  and  knotting  and  un 
twisting  her  gloves. 

"When  did  this  thing  come?"  asked  John,  a 
slight  tremor  in  his  tone. 

"This  morning,"  Mrs.  Jack  answered,  her  voice 
choking. 

416 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

"Why  did  you  not  bring  it  to  me?"  he  asked. 
"Why  did  you  take  it  to  Dick  ?  You  and  he  should 
not  come  to  me ;  on  the  contrary,  you  and  I  should 
have  gone  to  him.  But  never  mind  now.  I  have 
carried  in  my  pocket  a  letter  similar  to  this  for 
several  weeks,"  simply. 

"Catch  her.  John !"  cried  Warrington. 

"No,  no!   I  am  not  fainting.    I  am  just  dizzy." 

The  poor  woman  groped  her  way  to  the  lounge 
and  lay  down.  Her  shoulders  were  shaking  with 
noiseless  sobs. 

John  crossed  the  room  and  put  his  hand  on  her 
head.  The  touch  was  tender. 

"Well,  Dick?" 

"It  is  easy  to  distort  truth  into  a  lie,  John." 

"But  it  is  very  hard  to  reverse  the  order  again." 

"Do  you  believe  the  lie?"  Warrington  looked 
his  friend  squarely  in  the  eyes. 

A  minute  passed.  The  ticking  of  the  clock  was 
audible. 

"Believe  it  ?  I  have  had  to  struggle,  I  have  had 
to  fight  hard  and  all  alone.  I  do  not  say  that  I 
don't  believe  it.  I  say  that  I  will  not !" 

A  truly  noble  soul  always  overawes  us.  This 
generosity  struck  Warrington  dumb.  But  the 
woman  found  life  in  the  words.  She  flung  herself 
417 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

before  her  husband  and  clasped  his  knees  with  a 
nervous  strength  that  provoked  a  sharp  cry  from 
his  lips. 

"John,  John!" 

He  stooped  and  unwound  her  arms,  gently 
drawing  her  up,  up,  till  her  head  lay  against  his 
shoulder.  Then  she  became  a  dead  weight.  She 
had  fainted.  He  lifted  her  up  in  his  strong  arms 
and  started  for  the  stairs. 

"Were  she  guilty  of  all  the  crimes  chronicled  in 
hell,  I  still  should  love  her.  But  between  you  and 
me,  Dick,  things  must  be  explained." 

"I  shall  wait  for  you,  John." 

John  was  not  gone  long.  When  he  returned  he 
found  Warrington  by  the  bow-window  that 
looked  out  upon  the  lawn. 

"Now,  Dick,  the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth.  Don't  be  afraid  of  me;  I  am  master  of 
myself." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  you.  There  is  half  a  truth 
in  that  letter,"  began  Warrington,  facing  aboute 
"Your  wife  did  stay  a  night  in  my  apartments." 

John  made  no  sign. 

"It  was  the  first  week  of  a  new  play.  I  had  to 
be  at  the  theater  every  night.  There  were  many 
changes  being  made.  Near  midnight  we  started 
418 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

out  for  a  bite  to  eat.  She  had  been  suffering  with 
attacks  of  neuralgia  of  the  heart.  As  we  entered 
the  carriage,  one  of  these  attacks  came  on.  We 
drove  to  her  apartments.  We  could  not  get  in. 
Her  maid  was  out,  the  janitor  could  not  be  found, 
and  unfortunately  she  had  left  her  keys  at  the 
theater.  In  a  moment  like  that  I  accepted  the  first 
thing  that  came  into  my  head :  my  own  apart 
ments.  She  was  not  there  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  a  trained  nurse  and  her  own  physician  were 
at  her  side.  I  slept  in  a  chair.  At  six  the  follow 
ing  morning  she  left  for  her  own  apartments. 
And  that,  John,  is  the  truth,  God's  truth.  I  see 
now  that  I  should  have  taken  her  to  a  hotel.  You 
know  that  there  was  a  time  when  I  was  somewhat 
dissipated.  It  was  easy  to  take  that  incident  and 
enlarge  upon  it.  Now,  let  me  tell  you  where  this 
base  slander  originated.  Compare  the  letter  you 
have  with  the  one  I  gave  you." 

John  complied.   He  nodded.   These  two  letters 
had  come  from  the  same  typewriter. 

"Next?" 

"Here  is  another  document."  It  was  the  carbon 
sheet. 

John  spread  the  sheet  against  the  window-pane. 
The  light  behind  brought  out  the  letters  distinctly. 
419 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

He  scarcely  reached  the  final  line  when  he  spun 
round,  his  face  mobile  with  eagerness. 

"Where  did  this  come  from?" 

"Indirectly,  out  of  McQuade's  waste-basket." 

"Morrissy  and  McQuade;  both  of  them!  Oh, 
you  have  done  me  a  service,  Dick." 

"But  it  can  not  be  used,  John.  That  and  the 
letters  were  written  on  McQuade's  typewriter.  So 
much  for  my  political  dreams !  With  that  carbon 
sheet  I  could  pile  up  a  big  majority;  without  it  I 
shall  be  defeated.  But  don't  let  that  bother  you." 

"McQuade!"  John  slowly  extended  his  arms 
and  closed  his  fingers  so  tightly  that  his  whole 
body  trembled.  An  arm  inside  those  fingers  would 
have  snapped  like  a  pipe-stem.  "McQuade !  Damn 
him!" 

"Take  care !"  warned  the  other.  "Don't  injure 
those  letters.  When  my  name  was  suggested  by 
Senator  Henderson  as  a  possible  candidate,  Mc 
Quade  at  once  set  about  to  see  how  he  could  injure 
my  chances.  He  was  afraid  of  me.  An  honest 
man,  young,  new  in  politics,  and  therefore  un 
attached,  was  a  menace  to  the  success  of  his  party, 
that  is  to  say,  his  hold  on  the  city  government. 
Among  his  henchmen  was  a  man  named  Bolles." 

"Ah!"  grimly. 

420 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"He  sent  this  man  to  New  York  to  look  up  my 
past.  In  order  to  earn  his  money  he  brought  back 
this  lie,  which  is  half  a  truth.  Whether  McQuade 
believes  it  or  not  is  of  no  matter;  it  serves  his 
purpose.  Now,  John !" 

John  made  no  reply.  With  his  hands  (one  still 
clutching  the  letters)  behind  his  back  he  walked 
the  length  of  the  room  and  returned. 

"Will  you  take  my  word,  which  you  have  al 
ways  found  loyal,  or  the  word  of  a  man  who  has 
written  himself  down  as  a  rascal,  a  briber,  and  a 
blackleg?" 

John  put  out  his  empty  hand  and  laid  it  on 
Warrington's  shoulder. 

"You're  a  good  man,  Dick.  Dissipation  is  some 
times  a  crucible  that  separates  the  gold  from  the 
baser  metals.  It  has  done  that  to  you.  You  are  a 
good  man,  an  honorable  man.  In  coming  to  me 
like  this  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  courageous 
as  well.  There  was  a  moment  when  the  sight  of 
you  filled  my  heart  with  murder.  It  was  the  night 
after  I  received  that  letter.  I've  been  watching 
you,  watching,  watching.  Well,  I  would  stake  my 
chance  of  eternity  on  your  honesty.  I  take  your 
word ;  I  should  have  taken  it,  had  you  nothing  to 
prove  your  case.  That  night  I  ran  into  Bolles. 
421 


.  .  .  Well,  he  uttered  a  vile  insult,  and  I  all  but 
throttled  him.  Here's  my  hand,  Dick." 

The  hand-grip  that  followed  drew  a  gasp  from 
Warrington. 

"Not  every  man  would  be  so  good  about  it, 
John.  What  shall  we  do  about  McQuade  ?" 

"I  was  about  to  say  that  I  shall  see  McQuade 
within  an  hour,"  in  a  tone  that  did  not  promise 
well  for  McQuade. 

"Wait  a  day  or  two,  John.  If  you  meet  him 
now,  I  believe  you  will  do  him  bodily  harm,  and 
he  has  caused  enough  trouble,  God  knows." 

"But  not  to  meet  him !  Not  to  cram  this  paper 
down  his  vile  throat!  I  had  not  considered 
that  sacrifice.  And  I  can  not  touch  him  by  law, 
either." 

"But  you  can  silence  him  effectually.  This 
business  will  end  right  here.''' 

"You  are  right,"  said  John  with  reluctance. 
"If  I  met  him  in  this  rage,  I  should  probably  kill 
him." 

"Let  us  go  and  pay  him  a  visit  together,  John," 
Warrington  suggested.  "I  can  manage  to  keen  in 
between  you." 

"That's  better.  We'll  go  together."  And  John 
went  for  his  hat.  Then  he  ran  up  stairs  quickly. 
422 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

There  was  a  loving  heart  up  there  that  ached,  and 
he  alone  could  soothe  it. 

And  then  the  two  men  left  the  house.  As  they 
strode  down  the  street,  side  by  side,  step  by  step, 
their  thoughts  were  as  separate  as  the  two  poles. 
To  the  one  his  wife  was  still  his  wife,  in  all  the 
word  implied ;  to  the  other  there  was  only  a  long 
stretch  of  years  that  he  must  pass  through  alone, 
alone, — not  even  the  man  at  his  side  would  ever  be 
quite  the  same  to  him,  nor  his  wife.  There  was  a 
shadow ;  it  would  always  walk  between  them. 

"Remember,  Dick,  Patty  must  never  know  any 
thing  of  this.  Nothing  must  come  between  her 
and  my  wife." 

"I  shall  say  nothing  to  any  one,  John."  Who 
had  written  to  Patty  ? 

It  took  them  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  reach  Mc- 
Quade's  office.  Unfortunately  for  that  gentleman, 
he  was  still  in  his  office  and  alone.  The  new  type 
writer  and  the  two  clerks  had  gone.  He  was  still 
wondering  why  Osborne's  niece  had  resigned  so 
unexpectedly.  Probably  she  was  going  to  get 
married.  They  always  did  when  they  had  saved 
a  penny  or  two.  He  laughed.  He  had  been  care 
less  now  and  then,  but  whatever  she  might  have 
picked  up  in  the  way  of  business  or  political  se- 
423 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

crets  could  not  profit  her.  Boss  McOuade  felt 
secure.  Warrington  was  as  good  as  beaten.  He 
had  had  his  long-delayed  revenge  on  the  man  who 
had  turned  him  out  of  doors. 

It  was  dark  outside  by  this  time,  and  he  turned 
on  the  drop-light  over  his  desk.  He  heard  the  door 
open  and  shut,  but  this  was  not  unusual;  so  he 
went  on  with  his  writing. 

"Well,  what's  wanted?"  he  called,  folding  his 
letter,  but  not  yet  turning  his  head. 

As  no  one  answered,  he  sent  his  chair  around 
with  a  push  of  his  foot.  He  saw  two  men,  but  he 
did  not  recognize  them  at  once.  By  and  by  his 
eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the  dark.  Instantly  he 
was  on  his  feet,  pressing  the  button  connecting 
the  wall-lights.  There  was  no  possible  exit  save 
by  that  door,  and  these  two  men  stood  between. 
To  do  McQuade  justice,  he  was  not  a  physical 
coward.  His  huge  bulk  and  hardened  muscles 
gave  him  a  ready  courage.  He  forced  a  smile  to 
his  lips.  After  all,  he  had  expected  one  or  the 
other  of  them  sooner  or  later. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  I  am  highly  honored.  What 
can  I  do  for  you  ?"  There  was  a  pretense  of  amia 
bility. 

"For  the  present/'  said  Warrington,  "you  may 
424 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

sit  down.  We  propose  to  do  so."  He  drew  out  a 
chair  from  under  the  office  table  and  placed  it 
close  to  the  door.  "You  sit  there,  John."  For 
himself,  he  sat  on  the  corner  of  the  table. 

McQuade  did  not  hesitate,  but  reseated  him 
self.  His  thoughts  were  not  particularly  lucid, 
however. 

"McQuade,  you're  as  fine  a  blackleg  as  ever 
graced  a  prison,"  said  Warrington. 

"I'll  have  to  take  your  word  for  it,"  was  the 
reply.  "But  how  is  it  that  I  see  you  and  Mr.  Ben- 
nington  together  ?"  evilly. 

"We'll  come  to  that  presently.  I  had  always 
given  you  credit  for  being  as  astute  as  you  were 
underhanded  and  treacherous." 

"Thanks."  McQuade  took  a  cigar  from 
his  pocket  and  fumbled  around  in  his  vest  for  a 
match. 

"But,"  Warrington  added,  "I  am  pained  to  re 
verse  my  opinion.  You  are  a  fool  as  well  as  a 
blackleg." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out  ?"  coolly. 

"Do  you  know  where  your  man  Bolles  can  be 
found?" 

"Bolles?  Ah,  I  begin  to  see.  What  do  you 
want  of  him  ?" 

425 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"We  want  the  esteemed  honor  of  his  company 
at  this  reunion,"  dryly. 

Bolles?  McQuade  smiled.  He  was  only  too 
glad  to  accommodate  them.  If  they  wanted  Bolles 
they  should  have  him.  Bolles  would  cut  them  in 
two.  He  reached  for  the  telephone  and  began  to 
call  up  the  familiar  haunts  of  his  henchman.  He 
located  him  at  length  in  Martin's  saloon.  There 
was  evidently  some  reluctance  on  the  part  of 
Bolles. 

"Bolles,  if  you  are  not  at  my  office  inside  of  ten 
minutes,  I'll  break  you,  and  you  know  what  I 
mean."  McQuade  hung  up  the  receiver.  "He'll 
be  right  over.  Now,  what's  all  this  mystery 
about?" 

"It  regards  some  literary  compositions  of  yours 
to  which  I  have  taken  exception." 

"Compositions  ?" 

"Yes.  Two  anonymous  letters.  But  before  we 
discuss  them  we'll  wait  for  our  friend  Bolles." 

McQuade  signified  that  this  was  agreeable  to 
him.  All  the  same,  he  glanced  uneasily  at  the  man 
near  the  door.  Bennington  had  not  made  the 
slightest  sound  after  taking  his  chair.  His  arms 
were  folded  across  his  breast,  which  rose  and  fell 
with  deep  intakes.  His  face,  in  the  shadow,  was 
426 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

no  more  readable  than  that  of  the  miniature 
sphinx  paper-weight  that  rested  on  McQuade's 
desk.  But  Bolles  was  coming.  So  they  waited. 
The  end  of  McQuade's  cigar  waxed  and  waned 
according  to  his  inhalations.  These  inhalations 
were  not  quickly  made,  as  by  a  man  whose  heart 
is  beating  with  excitement;  they  were  slow  and 
regular,  it  might  be  said,  contemplative.  John's 
gaze  never  left  the  end  of  that  cigar. 

The  lights  in  the  tall  building  opposite  began  to 
twinkle  from  window  to  window.  Warrington 
slipped  off  the  table  and  pulled  down  the  curtains. 
McQuade  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar,  con 
templated  the  coal,  and  returned  it  to  the  corner 
of  his  mouth. 

Ah !  The  three  men  heard  steps  in  the  hall.  The 
door  to  the  outer  office  opened  and  banged.  But 
the  man  who  squeezed  past  Bennington  was  not 
Bolles. 

"Morrissy?"  cried  Warrington.  "Fine!  Have 
a  chair,  Mr.  Morrissy,  have  a  chair."  Warring- 
ton  was  delighted. 

Morrissy's  glance,  somewhat  bewildered,  trav 
eled  from  face  to  face.  On  entering  he  had  seen 
only  McQuade's  tranquil  visage.  He  sat  down, 
disturbed  and  mystified. 

427 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

"What's  this  ?"  Morrissy  demanded  to  know. 

"Hanged  if  I  know!"  said  McQuade.  "These 
two  gentlemen  presented  themselves  a  few  mo 
ments  ago  and  requested  me  to  send  for  Bolles. 
Have  a  cigar." 

Morrissy  took  the  proffered  weed,  but  he  did 
not  light  it.  He  turned  it  round  and  round  in  his 
teeth  and  chewed  it.  Well,  so  long  as  the  boss  did 
not  seem  alarmed,  the  trouble  could  not  be  serious. 
Yet  he  was  not  over-confident  of  Bennington's 
lowering  face. 

"Been  a  fine  day,"  said  Morrissy,  at  haphazard. 

"Yes,  but  there's  going  to  be  a  storm  to-night." 
Warrington  resumed  his  position  on  the  table. 

Conversation  died.  And  then  Bolles  came  in. 
At  the  sight  of  Bennington  he  recoiled. 

"Come  in,  come  in!''  said  McQuade.  "Mr. 
Warrington  will  offer  you  a  chair,"  facetiously. 

"Yes,  Bolles,  sit  down." 

"Well,  gentlemen,  here's  a  quorum;"  and  Mc 
Quade  began  to  rock  in  his  chair.  Three  against 
two ;  that  would  do  very  well. 

"I  will  go  at  once  at  the  matter  in  hand.  Those 
letters,  John."  Warrington  held  out  his  hand. 
"I'll  read  one  to  you,  McQuade."  He  read  slowly 
and  distinctly. 

428 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"What  the  hell  is  this?"  said  Morrissy. 

"It's  up  to  Mr.  Warrington  to  explain."  Mc- 
Quade  grinned.  That  grin,  however,  nearly  cost 
him  his  life. 

"John,  remember  your  promise!"  cried  War 
rington. 

John  sat  down,  seized  with  a  species  of  vertigo. 

"McQuade,  you  wrote  that." 

"Me?  You're  crazy !" 

"Not  at  all.  Let  me  advise  you.  The  next  time 
you  put  your  hand  to  anonymous  letters,  examine 
the  type  of  your  machine.  There  may  be  some 
bad  letter." 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  driving  at,"  Mc 
Quade  declared. 

"I  see  that  I  must  read  this,  then,  to  convince 
you."  Warrington  stood  up,  his  back  toward 
Bennington.  He  unfolded  the  carbon  sheet  and 
began  to  read. 

McQuade  saw  Medusa's  head,  little  versed  as 
he  was  in  mythology.  He  lowered  his  cigar.  The 
blood  in  his  face  gradually  receded. 

"  'In  two  sums  of  five  hundred  each,'  "  War 
rington  went  on. 

Morrissy,  who  suddenly  saw  visions  of  bars  and 
stripes,  made  a  quick,  desperate  spring.  Warring- 
429 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

ton  struck  him  with  full  force  on  the  side  of  the 
head.  Morrissy  reeled,  stumbled  to  the  floor  and 
lay  there.  The  others  were  on  their  feet  instantly. 

"Stay  where  you  are,  John;  I  don't  need  any 
assistance.  Now,  McQuade,  I've  got  you  where  I 
want  you."  Warrington  spoke  with  deadly  calm 
now.  "This  carbon  was  found  in  your  waste- 
basket  and  brought  to  me.  The  girl  is  where  you 
can  not  find  her.  There  are  two  courses  open  to 
you." 

"What  are  they?"  There  was  murder  in  Mc- 
Quade's  heart,  but  there  was  reason  in  his  head. 
He  saw  exactly  where  he  stood.  They  had  him. 

"One  is  state's  prison ;  the  other  is  a  full  retrac 
tion  of  this  base  calumny.  Take  your  choice." 

"Bolles?" 

"It's  true,  every  damn  word  of  it,"  said  Bolles 
venomously.  "Your  janitor  in  New  York  told  me 
the  facts.  You  know  they're  true." 

"Bolles,  I  nearly  killed  you  one  night.  So  help 
me,  if  you  do  not  withdraw  that,  I'll  kill  you  here 
and  now !"  It  was  the  first  time  Bennington  had 
spoken. 

"Bolles,"  said  McQuade,  "did  you  sell  a  lie 
to  me?" 

Bolles  eyed  Bennington,  who  had  pushed  War- 
430 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

rington  out  of  the  way  and  was  moving  toward 
him.  He  saw  death  on  Bennington's  face.  War- 
rington  again  interposed,  but  John  swept  him 
aside  with  ease. 

"Well,  there  was  a  doctor  and  a  nurse  there  all 
night  with  them.  But  she  was  in  Warrington's 
rooms  al!  night.  That  seemed  enough  for  me." 
Bolles  put  the  table  between  him  and  Bennington. 
He  was  genuinely  afraid. 

Morrissy  turned  over  and  sat  up,  rubbing  his 
head.  Presently  he  pulled  himself  to  his  feet.  He 
was  dazed.  Recollection  of  what  had  happened 
returned  to  him.  This  dude  had  knocked  him 
out. 

"You'll  pay  well  for  that,"  he  said. 

"Sit  down.  It's  only  a  marker  for  what  I'll  do 
to  you  if  you  make  another  move.  Now,  Mc- 
Quade,  which  is  it  ?" 

"Go  ahead  and  write  your  letter,"  McQuade 
snarled. 

Warrington  proceeded. 

"Now  sign  it,"  he  said.  "Here,  John,  take  care 
of  this  carbon.  Bolles,  your  signature."  Bolles 
scrawled  a  shaking  hand.  Warrington  put  the 
paper  in  his  pocket.  "Bite,  both  of  you  now,  if 
you  dare." 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"I'll  trouble  you  for  that  carbon/'  said  Mo 
Quade. 

"Hardly.  But  you  have  my  word  of  honor  that 
it  shall  not  be  used  against  you  unless  you  force 
me.  It  will  repose  in  my  deposit  box  at  the  bank. 
But  as  for  you,  Morriss)^  this  climate  doesn't  suit 
your  abilities.  The  field  is  too  small.  Take  my 
advice  and  clear  out.  That  is  all,  gentlemen. 
Come,  John." 

When,  they  were  gone  Morrissy  turned  sav 
agely  upon  McQuade. 

"I  told  you  you  were  a  damn  fool !" 

"Get  out  of  here,  both  of  you ;  and  if  you  ever 
stick  your  heads  in  this  office  again,  I'll  smash 
you." 

McQuade  dropped  into  his  chair,  once  more 
alone.  He  sat  there  for  an  hour,  thinking,  rumi 
nating,  planning;  but  all  his  thinking  and  rumi 
nating  and  planning  had  but  one  result :  they  had 
him  licked.  Morrissy  was  right;  he  was  a  fool. 
The  girl !  He  would  have  liked  her  throat  in  his 
fingers  that  moment,  the  sneaking,  treacherous 
baggage!  Licked!  To  go  about  hereafter  with 
that  always  menacing  him !  But  there  was  one  ray 
of  consolation.  He  knew  something  about  human 
nature.  Bennington  and  Warrington  would  drift 
432 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

apart  after  this.  Bennington  had  cleared  up  the 
scandal,  but  he  hadn't  purged  his  heart  of  all 
doubt.  There  was  some  satisfaction  in  this  know 
ledge.  And  Warrington  would  never  enter  the 
City  Hall  as  Herculaneum's  mayor. 


433 


CHAPTER    XX 

By  November  John  and  his  wife  were  on  the 
way  to  Italy.  There  is  always  a  second  honey 
moon  for  those  who  have  just  passed  the  first 
matrimonial  Scylla  and  Charybdis;  there  is  al 
ways  a  new  courtship,  deeper  and  more  under 
standing.  Neither  of  them  had  surrendered  a 
particle  of  their  affection  for  Warrington,  but  they 
agreed  that  it  would  be  easier  for  all  concerned 
if  there  came  a  separation  of  several  months. 

"You  are  all  I  have,"  said  Warrington,  when 
they  bade  him  good-by.  "I  shall  be  very  lonely 
without  you.  If  I  lose  the  election  I  shall  go  to 
Japan." 

"There's  always  Patty  and  the  mother,"  said 
John,  smiling. 

"Yes,  there's  always  Patty  and  her  mother. 
Good-by,  and  God  bless  you  both.  You  deserve 
all  the  happiness  I  can  wish  for  you." 

Warrington  plunged  into  the  campaign.  It 
would  keep  him  occupied. 

Mrs.  Bennington  and  Patty  lived  as  usual,  to  all 
434 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

outward  appearance.  But  Patty  was  rarely  seen 
in  society.  She  took  her  long  rides  in  the  after 
noon  now,  always  alone,  brooding.  Her  young 
friends  wondered,  questioned,  then  drifted  away 
gradually.  Poor  little  Patty!  No  one  had  told 
her ;  the  viper  had  not  been  shaken  from  her  nest. 
Day  after  day  she  waited  for  the  blow  to  fall,  for 
the  tide  of  scandal  to  roll  over  her  and  obliterate 
her.  She  was  worldly  enough  to  know  that  Mrs. 
Franklyn-Haldene  was  not  the  kind  of  woman 
to  keep  such  a  scandal  under  lock  and  key ;  others 
must  know,  Mrs.  Franklyn-Haldenes  particular 
friends.  So  she  avoided  the  possibility  of  meeting 
these  friends  by  declining  all  invitations  of  a  for 
mal  character.  Perhaps  after  a  time  it  would  die 
of  its  own  accord,  to  be  recalled  in  after  years  by 
another  generation,  as  such  things  generally  are. 
Patty  derived  no  comfort  from  the  paragraph  in 
the  Sunday  papers  announcing  Mrs.  Franklyn- 
Haldene's  departure  for  Egypt,  to  remain  for  the 
winter. 

She  kept  in  touch  with  all  that  Warrington  did. 
The  sense  of  shame  she  had  at  first  experienced  in 
reading  his  speeches  was  gone.  Her  pride  no 
longer  urged  her  to  cast  aside  the  paper,  to  rend 
it,  to  fling  it  into  the  flames.  Sometimes  she  saw 
435 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

him  on  the  way  home  from  his  morning  rides.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  he  did  not  sit  as  erectly  as  for 
merly.  Why  should  he  ?  she  asked  herself  bitterly. 
When  the  heart  is  heavy  it  needs  a  confidante,  but 
Patty,  brave  and  loyal,  denied  herself  the  luxury 
of  her  mother's  arms.  Tell  her  this  frightful 
story  ?  Bow  that  proud,  handsome  head  ?  No. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  mused  her  mother,  one 
evening,  "that  Mr.  Warrington  calls  no  more.  I 
rather  miss  his  cheerfulness,  and  John  thinks  so 
much  of  him." 

Patty  shivered.  "He  is  very  busy,  mother. 
Election  is  only  three  days  off,  and  doubtless  he 
hasn't  a  minute  to  call  his  own." 

Nor  had  he.  Pulled  this  way  and  that,  speaking 
every  night,  from  one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other, 
he  went  over  the  same  ground  again  and  again, 
with  the  same  noise,  the  same  fumes  of  tobacco 
and  whisky  and  kerosene,  with  his  heart  no  longer 
behind  his  will.  Yes,  Warrington  was  very  busy. 
He  was  very  unhappy,  too.  What  did  he  care 
about  the  making  up  of  the  slate  ?  What  was  it  to 
him  that  this  man  or  that  wanted  this  or  that 
berth?  What  were  all  these  things?  But  he  hid 
his  dissatisfaction  admirably.  His  speeches  lacked 
nothing. 

436 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

Election  day  came  round  finally,  and  a  rare 
and  beautiful  day  it  was.  The  ghost  of  summer 
had  returned  to  view  her  past  victories.  A  west 
wind  had  cleared  the  skies,  the  sun  shone  warm 
and  grateful,  the  golden  leaves  shivered  and  flut 
tered  to  the  ground.  Nature  had  lent  a  hand  to 
bring  voting  humanity  to  the  polls.  Some  men 
are  such  good  citizens  that  they  will  vote  in  the 
rain.  But  warmth  and  sunshine  bring  out  the 
lazy,  the  indifferent,  and  the  uninterested. 

Warrington  voted  early  in  the  morning,  rode 
to  the  Country  Club,  made  an  attempt  to  play  golf 
over  the  partly  frozen  course,  lounged  round 
till  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  then  returned  to 
town.  There  was  not  a  flutter  in  his  heart.  There 
was  this  truth,  however,  staring  him  in  the  eyes : 
if  he  lost,  he  would  become  an  indifferent  citizen; 
if  he  won,  an  indifferent  mayor.  He  was  not  a 
man  to  falsify  his  accounts  for  the  inspection  of 
his  conscience. 

The  voting  was  heavy  throughout  the  day. 
Crowds  lingered  round  the  polls,  which,  in  greater 
part,  were  in  the  rear  of  shops,  in  barns  and  sheds. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  repeating  in  some  of 
the  districts,  and  a  dozen  arrests  had  been  made. 
Neither  party  was  free  from  this  taint  of  dishon- 
437 


HALF    A     ROGUE 


est  politics.   But  no  one  could  prophesy  what  the 
final  results  of  the  day  would  be. 

Night  came.  It  is  the  greatest  spectacular  night 
the  American  knows.  The  noisy,  good-natured 
crowds  in  the  streets,  the  jostling,  snail-moving 
crowds;  the  illuminated  canvas-sheets  in  front  of 
the  newspaper  offices ;  the  blare  of  tin  horns,  the 
cries,  the  yells,  the  hoots  and  hurrahs ;  the  petty 
street  fights ;  the  stalled  surface  cars ;  the  swearing 
cabbies ;  the  newsboys  hawking  their  latest  extras, 
men  carrying  execrable  posters  of  roosters.  Hur 
rah  !  hurrah !  A  flash  goes  over  the  canvas. 


In  the  4th  District 
Donnelly  608 
Warrington  302 


A  roar  that  rose  and  died  suddenly,  and  a  wail 
ing  of  tin  horns. 


In  Seven  Districts 
Warrington  1,262 
Donnelly 


Roars.    It  was  going  to  be  close.    Between 
438 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

times  local  advertisers  used  the  sheets,  or  there 
were  pictures  of  presidents  past  and  present, 
crowned  heads  (always  greeted  with  jeers),  fun 
ny  pictures,  or  returns  from  other  states. 


In  Nine  Districts 
Donnelly       1,821 
Warrington  1,800 


The  crowds  surged  and  billowed,  and  there  was 
pandemonium. 

The  newspaper  offices  were  having  a  busy  time. 
This  period  proves  the  man;  he  is  a  newspaper 
man  or  he  is  not.  There  was  a  continuous  coming 
and  going  of  messengers,  bringing  in  returns. 
The  reporters  and  editors  were  in  their  shirt 
sleeves,  most  of  them  collarless.  Figures,  figures, 
thousands  of  figures  to  sift  and  resift.  A  fire-bell 
rings.  No  one  looks  up  save  the  fire  reporter,  and 
he  is  up  and  away  at  once.  Filtering  through  the 
various  noises  is  the  maddening  rattle  of  the  tele 
graph  instruments.  Great  drifts  of  waste-paper 
litter  the  floors.  A  sandwich  man  serves  coffee 
and  cigars,  and  there  is  an  occasional  bottle  of 
beer.  Everybody  is  writing,  writing. 
439 


HALF     A     ROGUE 

McQuade  and  his  cohorts  haunted  the  city  room 
of  the  Times.  Things  did  not  look  well  at  all. 
There  were  twelve  more  districts  to  hear  from. 
Donnelly  seemed  to  be  the  coolest  man  in  that 
office. 

Warrington  started  home  at  nine.  Up  to  this 
time  he  had  been  indifferent,  but  it  was  impossible 
not  to  catch  the  spirit  of  this  night.  Win  or  lose, 
however,  he  wanted  to  be  alone.  So  he  went 
home,  lighted  the  fire  in  his  working-room,  called 
his  dog,  and  sat  there  dreaming. 

Down  town  the  clamor  was  increasing.  The 
great  throngs  round  the  bulletins  were  gathering 
in  force.  Bonfires  were  flaring  on  corners. 


In  15  Districts 
Warrington  9,782 
Donnelly       9,036 


Close,  terribly  close.  But  those  districts  upon 
which  the  fight  really  depended  had  not  yet  turned 
up.  The  big  labor  vote  had  not  been  accounted 
for. 

The  Call  had  notified  its  readers  that  when  the 
returns  were  all  in  and  the  battle  decided,  it  would 
440 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

blow  a  whistle.  If  Warrington  was  elected,  five 
blasts ;  if  Donnelly,  ten. 

So  Warrington  waited,  sunk  in  his  chair,  his 
legs  sprawled,  his  chin  on  his  breast,  and  his  eyes 
drawing  phantoms  in  the  burning  wood  fire. 
.  .  .  It  was  cruel  that  Patty  could  not  know; 
and  yet  to  leave  John  with  the  belief  that  his  sister 
knew  nothing  was  a  kindness,  and  only  John  could 
convince  Patty;  and  it  was  even  a  greater  kind 
ness  to  leave  Patty  with  the  belief  that  John  knew 
nothing.  So  there  he  stood ;  friendship  on  the  one 
side  and  love  on  the  other.  He  recalled  all  the 
charming  ways  Patty  had,  the  color  of  her  hair, 
the  light  music  of  her  laughter,  the  dancing 
shadows  in  her  eyes,  the  transparent  skin,  the 
springy  step,  and  the  vigor  and  life  that  were  hers. 
And  he  had  lost  her,  not  through  any  direct  fault, 
but  because  he  was  known  to  have  been  dissipated 
at  one  time ;  a  shadow  that  would  always  be  cross 
ing  and  recrossing  his  path.  So  long  as  he  lived  he 
would  carry  that  letter  of  hers,  with  its  frank, 
girlish  admiration. 

So,  he  -mused,  those  dissipations  of  his,  which, 

after  all,  had  touched  him  but  lightly — these  had, 

like  chickens,  come  home  to  roost!     And  how 

these  chickens  had  multiplied  and  grown!     On 

441 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

the  way  home  it  seemed  that  everybody  had 
striven  to  fatten  them  up  a  bit  and  add  surrepti 
tiously  a  chicken  or  two  of  his  own.  Oh,  these 
meddlers,  these  idle  tongues !  None  of  them  would 
set  to  work  to  wrong  anybody,  to  wreck  any 
body's  life.  They  would  shrink  in  horror  from 
the  thought,  let  alone  the  deed.  Yet,  they  must 
talk,  they  must  exchange  the  day's  news,  they 
must  have  news  that  no  one  else  had;  and  this 
competition  is  the  cause  of  half  the  misery  on 
earth.  What  if  they  exaggerate  a  little  here  and 
a  little  there?  No  harm  is  meant.  Human  na 
ture,  having  found  its  speech,  must  have  some 
thing  to  talk  about ;  that  which  it  has  neither  seen 
nor  heard,  it  invents. 

Who  had  written  that  letter  to  Patty?  Some 
woman;  man  had  not  yet  acquired  such  finished 
cruelty.  He  could  not  understand  its  purpose, 
well  as  he  understood  women.  Who  could  pos 
sibly  hate  Patty,  honest  and  loyal  as  the  day  is 
long?  McQuade's  letters  had  their  existence  in 
revenge.  Patty  had  wronged  no  one;  McQuade 
had. 

"Well,  Jove,  old  man,  you  and  I  may  have  to 
pack  up  on  the  morrow.  If  we  are  licked,  you  and 
442 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

I'll  go  to  Japan.     That's  a  country  we've  always 
been  wanting  to  see." 

Jove  lifted  his  head,  somewhat  scarred,  and 
gazed  up  at  his  master  with  steadfast  love  in  his 
red-brown  eyes.  A  dog  is  better  than  a  horse,  a 
horse  is  better  than  a  cat,  a  cat  is  better  than  noth 
ing.  .  .  .  Warrington  sat  up  quickly,  drawing 
in  his  legs.  A  whistle !  He  caught  his  breath  and 
counted.  One — two — three — four — five — six! 
.  .  .  Donnelly !  He  counted  no  more.  Donnelly 
had  won. 

His  valet  found  him  asleep  in  the  chair  the  next 
morning,  before  a  dead  fire.  It  was  cold  in  the 
room.  The  valet  touched  him,  but  Warrington  did 
not  move.  It  was  only  when  he  was  roughly 
shaken  that  he  opened  his  eyes.  A  single  glance 
explained  the  situation.  He  jumped  to  his  feet, 
rubbing  his  eyes. 

"Will  you  have  the  morning  papers,  sir?" 

"What's  the  use?"  Warrington  shrugged  indif 
ferently. 

"The  majority  was  only  six  hundred  and  eighty- 
two,  sir." 

"Then  we  had  them  mightily  scared  for  a  time. 
Odd  that  the  'phone  did  not  wake  me  up." 
443 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"I  took  it  off  the  hook,  sir,  at  midnight.  I  knew 
it  would  disturb  you." 

"Go  down  town  and  bring  me  up  the  sailing- 
lists  and  a  few  cabin-plans  for  ships  bound  for 
Japan.  I  intend  to  start  for  that  country  just  as 
soon  as  I  can  dispose  of  the  horses." 

"Shall  you  need  me,  sir  ?" 

"I  couldn't  get  along  without  you,  James." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Breakfast  is  served,  sir,  if  you 
wish  it." 

The  telephone  rang.  The  valet  raised  his  eye 
brows  inquiringly. 

"I'll  answer  it,"  said  Warrington.  "Who  is  it? 
Jordan  ?  Oh !  You  can  say  that  I  put  up  the  best 
fight  I  knew  how.  .  .  .  No.  Say  nothing  about 
the  influence  of  the  strike.  Let  it  stand  as  it  is. 
.  .  .  My  plans  ?  You  may  say  that  I  shall  sail  in 
a  few  days  for  Japan.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes!  This  is 
my  home.  I  shall  return  in  the  spring.  Change 
of  scene,  that's  all.  Good-by." 

The  defeated  candidate  ate  a  respectable  break 
fast,  after  which  he  put  his  affairs  in  order. 
Trunks  were  brought  down  from  the  store-room, 
and  cases  and  steamer-rolls.  Warrington  always 
traveled  comfortably.  He  left  the  packing  in 
charge  of  the  valet. 

444 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

A  ten-o'clock  edition  of  the  Telegraph  was  be 
ing  hawked  outside,  but  Warrington  had  seen  all 
he  wanted  of  newspapers.  By  noon  he  had  found 
a  purchaser  for  his  stable.  The  old  housekeeper 
and  her  husband  were  to  remain  in  care  of  the 
house.  They  were  the  only  beings  that  loved  him, 
now  that  the  aunt  was  gone.  Heigh-ho ! 

He  declined  lunch.  He  answered  no  more  calls 
on  the  telephone.  When  Senator  Henderson  called 
the  interview  was  pleasant  but  short. 

"We'll  try  you  again/'  said  the  senator  ge 
nially. 

"I'll  think  it  over,"  replied  Warrington. 

"You'll  win  next  time;  you'll  be  stronger  two 
years  hence.  You  made  a  great  fight.  Bennington 
lost  the  fight  for  you.  If  he  hadn't  been  your 
friend—" 

"I  had  rather  have  John  Bennington  my  friend 
than  be  president,"  laughing. 

"There  were  six  thousand-odd  labor  votes 
against  you,  and  yet  Donnelly's  majority  was  only 
six  hundred  and  eighty-two.  Hope  you'll  enjoy 
your  trip  to  Japan.  But  McQuade's  back  again !" 
discouraged. 

"Senator,  if  he  acts  nasty  in  any  way,  go  to 
him  personally  and  tell  him  that  upon  application 
445 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

at  the  bank  you  will  open  my  deposit  box.  He'll 
understand;  he'll  be  as  docile  as  a  lamb.  And 
thank  all  the  boys  for  their  good  work.  I  appre 
ciate  the  honor  that  has  been  done  me.  To  have 
been  a  candidate  is  something." 

By  three  o'clock  Warrington  found  time  to  sit 
down  at  his  desk  to  write  three  letters.  One  was 
addressed  to  McQuade,  another  to  John,  Hotel 
de  la  Syrene,  Sorrento,  Italy.  The  third  he  began 
after  some  deliberation : 


'Patty :  Presently  I  shall  be  on  the  way  to  Japan. 
I  was  going  without  a  word  because  I  had  given  a 
promise  to  your  brother  John.  But  it  is  not  within 
human  nature,  at  least  mine,  to  leave  without  tell 
ing  you  again  that  I  love  you  better  than  life,  and 
that  I  am  innocent  of  the  wrong  you  were  so  ready 
to  believe.  Some  day  ask  John ;  tell  him  that  I  have 
broken  my  word :  he  will  tell  you  how  truth  was 
made  a  lie.  I  realize  now  that  I  ought  to  have  stood 
my  ground.  I  ought  to  have  nailed  the  lie  then.  But 
my  proofs  were  not  such  as  would  do  away  with  all 
doubts.  And  besides,  when  I  saw  that  you  had  be 
lieved  without  giving  me  the  benefit  of  a  doubt,  I 
was  angry.  And  so  I  left  you,  refusing  to  speak  one 
.way  or  the  other.  John  will  tell  you.  And  if  my 
cause  is  still  in  your  thought  and  you  care  to  write, 
mail  your  letter  to  my  bankers.  They  will  forward 
it.  And  if  I  should  have  the  happiness  to  be  wanted, 
even  if  I  am  at  the  ends  of  the  world,  I  shall  come 
to  you. 

446 


A  door  opened  and  closed,  but  his  ear  was  dull 


HALF    A     ROGUE 

He  did  not  sign  it,  but  he  read  it  over  carefully. 
There  was  nothing  to  cut,  nothing  to  add.  He 
folded  it,  then  laid  his  head  on  his  extended  arms. 
A  door  opened  and  closed,  but  his  ear  was  dull. 
Then  everything  became  still.  Scientists  have  not 
yet  fully  explained  what  it  is  that  discovers  to  us 
a  presence  in  the  room,  a  presence  that  we  have 
neither  seen  nor  heard  enter.  So  it  was  with  War- 
rington.  There  was  no  train  of  collected  thought 
in  his  mind,  nothing  but  stray  snatches  of  this  day 
and  of  that,  the  picture  of  a  smile,  a  turn  in  the 
road,  the  sound  of  a  voice.  And  all  at  once  he  be 
came  conscious  that  something  was  compelling 
him  to  raise  his  head.  He  did  so  slowly. 

A  woman  was  standing  within  a  dozen  feet  of 
the  desk. 

"Patty!"  he  cried,  leaping  to  his  feet,  bewil 
dered. 

Patty  did  not  move.  Alas,  she  had  left  all  her 
great  bravery  at  the  threshold.  What  would  he 
think  of  her? 

"Patty!"  he  repeated.   "You  are  here?" 

"Yes."    All  the  blood  in  her  body  seemed  to 
congest  in  her  throat.    "Are — is  it  true  that  you 
are  going  to  Japan  ?"  If  he  came  a  step  nearer  she 
was  positive  that  she  would  fall. 
447 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

"Yes,  Patty ;  it  is  as  true  as  I  love  you.  But  let 
us  not  speak  of  that,"  sadly. 

"Yes,  yes!  Let  us  speak  of  it!"  a  wild  despair 
in  her  voice  and  gesture.  "Let  us  speak  of  it,  since 
I  do  nothing  but  think  of  it,  think  of  it,  think  of 
it !  Oh !  I  am  utterly  shameless,  but  I  can  not  fight 
any  longer.  I  have  no  longer  any  pride.  I  should 
despise  you,  but  I  do  not.  I  should  hate  you,  but 
I  can  not.  .  .  No,  no !  Stay  where  you  are." 

"Patty,  do  you  love  me?"  There  was  a  note 
in  his  voice  as  vibrant  as  the  second  string  of  a 
'cello. 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  still  believe  that  I  am  a  blackguard?" 

"I  care  not  what  you  are  or  what  you  have 
been ;  nothing,  nothing.  It  is  only  what  you  have 
been  to  me  and  what  you  still  are.  Something  is 
wrong;  something  is  terribly  wrong;  I  know  not 
what  it  is.  Surely  God  would  not  let  me  love  you 
as  I  do  if  you  were  not  worthy." 

"No,"  he  replied  gravely;  "God  would  not  do 
that." 

The  tears  rolled  down  Patty's  cheeks,  but  there 
was  no  sound. 

"Here,  Patty ;  read  this  letter  which  I  was  about 
to  send  you." 

448 


HALF    A    ROGUE 

She  accepted  it  dumbly.  Then,  through  her 
tears  there  came  wonder  and  joy  and  sunshine. 
When  she  had  done,  he  held  out  his  hand  for  the 
letter ;  but  she  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"No,  Richard ;  this  is  my  first  love-letter." 


THE  END 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT   BOOKS 
IN    POPULAR   PRICED    EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great'literary  successes  of  the  time.    Library 
size.     Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with   illustra- 
$  tions  of  marked  beauty — and    handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
y  Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BEVERLY  OF  GRAUSTARK.  By  George  Barr  McCut- 
cheon.  With  Color  Frontispiece  and  other  illustrations 
by  Harrison  Fisher.  Beautiful  inlay  picture  in  colors  of 
Beverly  on  the  cover. 

"  The  most  fascinating,  engrossing  and  picturesque  of  the  season's 
novels."—  Boston  Herald.  "'Beverly'  is  altogether  charming — al 
most  living  flesh  and  blood." — Louisville  Times.  "  Better  than 
'  o-raustark  '." — Mail  and  Express.  "  A  sequel  quite  as  impossible 
as  '  Graustark '  and  quite  as  entertaining." — Bookman.  "  A  charm 
ing  love  story  well  told."— Boston  Transcript, 

HALF  A  ROGUE.    By  Harold  MacGrath.      With  illustra 
tions  and  inlay  cover  picture  by  Harrison  Fisher. 
"  Here  are  dexterity  of  plot,  glancing  play  at  witty  talk,  characters 
really  human  and  humanly  real,  spirit  and  gladness,  freshness  and 
quick  movement.     '  Half  a  Rogue  '  is  as  brisjt  as  a  horseback  ride  on 
a  glorious  morning.    It  is  as  varied  as  an  April  day.    It  is  as  charming 
as  two  most  charming  girls  can  make  it.      Love  ^nd  honor  and  suc 
cess  and  all  the  great  things  worth  fighting  for  and  living  for  the  in 
volved  in  '  Half  a  Rogue.'  " — Phila.  Press. 

THE  GIRL  FROM  TIM'S   PLACE.      By   Charles   Clark 

Munn.  With  illustrations  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
"  Figuring  in  the  pages  of  this  story  there  are  several  strong  char 
acters.  Typical  New  England  folk  and  an  especially  sturdy  one,  old 
Cy  Walker,  through  whose  instrumentality  Chip  comes  to  happiness 
and  fortune.  There  is  a  chain  of  comedy,  tragedy,  pathos  and  love, 
which  makes  a  dramatic  story.  "—Boston  Herald. 

THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE.    A  story  of  American  Life. 
By  Charles  Klein,  and  Arthur  Hornblow.      With  illustra 
tions  by  Stuart  Travis,  and  Scenes  from  the  Play. 
The  novel  duplicated  the  success  of  the  play ;  in  fact  the  book  is 
greater  than  the  play.     A  portentous  clash  of  dominant  personalties 
that  form  the  essence  of  tne  play  are  necessarily  touched  upon  but 
briefly  in  the  short  space  of  four  acts.      All  this  is  narrated  in  the 
novel  with  a  wealth  of  fascinating  and  absorbing  detail,  making  it  one 
of  the  most  powerfully  written  and  exciting  works  of  fiction  given  to 
tfie  world  in  years. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT  BOOKS 
IN    POPULAR    PRICED  EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  I  ibrary 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra 
tions  of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

BARBARA    WIN  SLOW,    REBEL.      By   Elizabeth  Ellis. 

With  illustrations  by  John  Rae,  and  colored  inlay  cover- 
The  following,  taken  from  story,  will  best  describe  the  heroine: 
A  TOAST:  " To  the  bravest  comrade  in  misfortune,  the  sweetest 
companion  in  peace  and  at  all  times  the  most  courageous  of  women." 
— Barbara  Winslow.  "  A  romantic  story,  buoyant,  eventful,  and  in 
matters  of  love  exactly  what  .the  heart  _could  desire." — New  York  Sun. 

SUSAN.    By  Ernest  Oldmeadow.    With  a  color  frontispiece 

by  Frank  Haviland.  Medalion  in  color  on  front  cover. 
Lord  Ruddington  falls  helplessly  in  love  with  Miss  Langley,  whom 
he  sees  in  one  of  her  walks  accompanied  by  her  maid,  Susan. 
Through  a  misapprehension  of  personalities  his  lordship  addresses 
a  love  missive  to  the  maid.  Susan  accepts  in  perfect  good  faith, 
and  an  epistolary  love-making  goes  on  till  they  are  disillusioned.  It 
naturally  makes  a  droll  and  delightful  little  comedy  ;  and  is  a  story 
that  is  particularly  clever  in  the  telling. 

WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE.    By  Jean  Web 
ster.     With  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 
"The  book  is  a  treasure." — Chicago  Daily    News.       "Bright, 
whimsical,  and  thoroughly  entertaining." — Buffalo  Express.    "One 
of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been  writ 
ten." — N.  Y.  Press.    "  To  any  woman  who  has  enjoyed  the  pleasures 
of  a  college  life  this  book  cannot  fail  to  bring  back  many  sweet  recol 
lections  ;  and  to  those  who  have  not  been  to  college  the  wit,  lightness, 
and  charm  of  Patty  are  sure  to  be  no  less  delightful.  "—Public  Opinion. 

THE  MASQUERADER.      By  Katherine  Cecil  Thurston. 

With  illustrations  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 
"  You  can't  drop  it  till  you  have  turned  the  last  page." — Cleveland 
Leader.  "  Its  very  audacity  of  motive,  of  execution,  of  solution,  al 
most  takes  one's  breath  away.  The  boldness  of  its  denouement 
is  sublime." — Boston  Transcript.  "  The  literary  hit  of  a  generation. 
The  best  of  it  is  the  story  deserves  all  its  success.  A  masterly  story." 
— St.  Louis  Dispatch.  "  The  story  is  ingeniously  told,  and  cleverly 
constructed." — The  Dial. 

THE  GAMBLER.    By  Katherine   Cecil  Thurston.     With 

illustrations  by  John  Campbell. 

"  Tells  of  a  high  strung  young  Irish  woman  who  has  a  passion  for 
gambling,  inherited  from  a  long  line  of  sporting  ancestors.  She  has 
a  high  sense  of  honor,  too,  and  that  causes  complications.  She  is  a 
very  human,  lovable  character,  and  love  saves  ner." — N.  Y.  Times. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


FAMOUS  COPYRIGHT  BOOKS 
IN   POPULAR   PRICED   EDITIONS 

Re-issues  of  the  great  literary  successes  of  the  time.  Library 
size.  Printed  on  excellent  paper — most  of  them  with  illustra 
tions  of  marked  beauty — and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth. 
Price,  75  cents  a  volume,  postpaid. 

THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  INN.     By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 

With  illustrations  by  Martin  Justice. 

"  As  superlatively  clever  in  the  writing  as  it  is  entertaining  in  the 
reading.  It  is  actual  comedy  of  the  most  artistic  sort,  and  it  is 
handled  with  a  freshness  and  originality  that  is  unquestionably 
novel." — Boston  Transcript.  "  A  feast  of  humor  and  good  cheer, 
yet  subtly  pervaded  by  special  shades  of  feeling,  fancy,  tenderness, 
or  whimsicality.  A  merry  thing  in  prose." — St.  Louis  Democr.'' 

ROSE  O'  THE  RIVER.    By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin.    With 

illustrations  by  George  Wright. 

"'Rose  o'  the  River,'  a  charming  bit  of  sentiment,  gracefully 
written  and  deftly  touched  with  a  gentle  humor.  It  is  a  dainty  book 
— daintily  illustrated." — New  York  Tribune.  "A  wholesome,  bright, 
refreshing  story,  an  ideal  book  to  give  a  young  girl." — Chicago 
Record-Herald.  "An  idyllic  story,  replete  with  pathos  and  inimita 
ble  humor.  As  story-telling  it  is  perfection,  and  as  portrait-painting 
it  is  true  to  the  life.  — London  Mail. 

TILLIE  :    A  Mennonite  Maid.    By  Helen  R.  Martin.    With 

illustrations  by  Florence  Scovel  Shinn. 

The  little  "  Mennonite  Maid  "  who  wanders  through  these  pages 
is  something  quite  new  in  fiction.  Tillie  is  hungry  for  books  and 
beauty  and  love ;  and  she  comes  into  her  inheritance  at  the  end. 
"  Tillie  is  faulty,  sensitive,  big-hearted,  eminently  human,  and  first, 
last  and  always  lovable.  Her  charm  glows  warmly,  the  story  is  well 
handled,  the  characters  skilfully  developed." — The  Book  Buyer. 

LADY  ROSE'S  DAUGHTER.    By  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 

With  illustrations  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 
•'  The  most  marvellous  work  of  its  wonderful  author." — New  York 
World.  "We  touch  regions  and  attain  altitudes  which  it  is  not  given 
to  the  ordinary  novelist  even  to  approach." — London  Times.  "In 
no  other  story  has  Mrs.  Ward  approached  the  brilliancy  and  vivacity 
of  Lady  Rose's  Daughter." — North  American  Review. 

THE  BANKER  AND  THE  BEAR.    By  Henry  K.  Webster. 

"  An  exciting  and  absorbing  story." — New  York  Times.  "Intense 
ly  thrilling  in  parts,  but  an  unusually  good  story  all  through.  There 
is  a  love  affair  of  real  charm  and  most  novel  surroundings,  there  is  a 
run  on  the  bank  which  is  almost  worth  a  year's  growth,  and  there  is 
all  manner  of  exhilarating  men  and  deeds  which  should  bring  the 
book  into  high  and  permanent  favor." — Chir.atm  F.nening  Post. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEV,   YORK 


NATURE      BOOKS 

With  Colored  Plates,  and  Photographs  from  Life. 


BIRD  NEIGHBORS.  An  Introductory  Acquaint 
ance  with  1 50  Birds  Commonly  Found  in  the  Woods, 
Fields  and  Gardens  About  Our  Homes.  By  Neltje 
Blanchan.  With  an  Introduction  by  John  Burroughs, 
and  many  plates  of  birds  in  natural  colors.  Large 
Quarto,  size  7^x10^,  Cloth.  Formerly  published 
at  $2.00.  Our  special  price,  $1.00. 

As  an  aid  to  the  elementary  study  of  bird  life  nothing  has  ever  been 
published  more  satisfactory  than  this  most  successful  of  Nature 
Books.  This  book  makes  the  identification  of  our  birds  simple  and 
positive,  even  to  the  uninitiated,  through  certain  unique  features. 

I.  All  the  birds  are  grouped  according  to  color,  in  the  belief  that  a 
bird's  coloring  is  the  first  and  often  the  only  characteristic  noticed. 

II.  By  another  classification,  the  birds  are  grouped  according  to  their 
season.    III.  All  the  popular  names  by  which  a  bird  is  known  are 
given  both  in  the  descriptions  and  the  index.    The  colored  plates 
are  the  most  beautiful  and  accurate  ever  given  in  a  moderate-priced 
and  popular  book.     The  most  successful  and  widely  sold  Nature 
Book  yet  published. 

BIRDS  THAT  HUNT  AND  ARE  HUNTED.  Life 
Histories  of  170  Birds  of  Prey,  Game  Birds  and  Water- 
Fowls.  By  Neltje  Blanchan.  With  Introduction  by 
G.  O.  Shields  (Coquina).  24  photographic  illustra 
tions  in  color.  Large  Quarto,  size  7^x10^4.  Form 
erly  published  at  $2.00.  Our  special  price,  $1.00. 

No  work  of  its  class  has  ever  been  issued  that,  contains  so  much 
valuable  information,  presented  with  such  felicity  and  charm.  The 
colored  plates  are  true  to  nature  By  their  aid  alone  any  bird  illus 
trated  may  be  readily  identified.  Sportsmen  will  especially  relish 
the  twenty-four  color  plates  which  show  thf  more  important  birds  in 
characteristic  poses.  They  are  probably  the  most  valuable  and 
artistic  pictures  of  the  kind  available  to-day. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      -      NEW  YORK 


NATURE      BOOKS 

With  Colored  Plates,  and  Photographs  from  Life. 

NATURE'S  GARDEN.  An  Aid  to  Knowledge  of 
Our  Wild  Flowers  and  Their  Insect  Visitors.  24  col 
ored  plates,  and  many  other  illustrations  photographed 
directly  from  nature.  Text  by  Neltje  Blanchan. 
Large  Quarto,  size  7 2-^xi o^.  Cloth.  Formerly  pub 
lished  at  $3.00  net.  Our  special  price,  $1.25. 

Suberb  color  portraits  of  many  familiar  flowers  in 
their  living  tints,  and  no  less  beautiful  pictures  in 
black  and  white  of  others — each  blossom  photo 
graphed  directly  from  nature — form  an  unrivaled 
series.  By  their  aid  alone  the  novice  can  name  the 
flowers  met  afield. 

Intimate  life-histories  of  over  five  hundred  species 
of  wild  flowers,  written  in  untechnical,  vivid  lan 
guage,  emphasize  the  marvelously  interesting  and 
vital  relationship  existing  between  these  flowers  and 
the  special  insect  to  which  each  is  adapted. 

The  flowers  are  divided  into  five  color  groups,  be 
cause  by  this  arrangement  any  one  with  no  knowl 
edge  of  botany  whatever  can  readily  identify  the 
specimens  met  during  a  walk.  The  various  popular 
names  by  which  each  species  is  known,  its  preferred 
dwelling-place,  months  of  blooming  and  geographical 
distribution  follow  its  description.  Lists  of  berry- 
bearing  and  other  plants  most  conspicuous  after  the 
flowering  season,  of  such  as  grow  together  in  differ, 
ent  kinds  of  soil,  and  finally  of  family  groups  ar 
ranged  by  that  method  of  scientific  classification 
adopted  by  the  International  Botanical  Congress 
which  has  now  superseded  all  others,  combine  to 
make  "  Nature's  Garden"  an  indispensable  guide. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  -  NEW  YORK 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


NON-RENEWABU 


ER  06,1 


DUE  2  WKS  FROLIC 


995 

m 

Al 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000128448     8 


